This Time Around
by silent12reader
Summary: Companion Piece to 'Last Christmas' in Quinn's eyes. AU. 'Santa!na is now human. She still thinks Quinn's cookies are her one true love, but she has no memory of Quinn. Will they finally be together?"
1. Chapter 1

**Okay, you guys are awesome! ****And I seriously did not expect you guys to like it, I don't know, maybe just five or six?**

**This time, Quinn is narrating the story, because I notice the last one is confusing with all the 'she'. Again, Quinn is a little OOC, I guess I had LUCY in mind when I was writing this.**

**PS. the whole cookie obsession is from 'Coffee and Cookies'. It's one of my favorite quinntana fics!**

**PPS. NOT AS GOOD AS THE FIRST ONE. I can't write Quinn period. This is just for all those who wished _maybe _Santana and Quinn will end up together somehow.**

* * *

><p><strong>LUCY QUINN is 11 (Christmas Eve)<strong>

You know how people always say count the stars before you sleep? Well me, I literally_ have to_ count the stars to sleep. And well... this days, I could just do it by crying myself to sleep. Yay to myself!

Nobody should be sad like this on Christmas! But I am. I am every single day of my life. Because I'm a Fabray... rather, I'm _not enough_ to be a Fabray. A lot of people say that I'm probably adopted, or the babies were switched when my mother gave birth (my dad had to double check when I hit middle school). I just... I'm not like my mom. Or my _sister. _And my family just _stopped _caring... except my grandpa. He's actually the only person who cares about me... Who loves me. But God had to take him away. Frannie said he needs to_rest for good, _and that he had done enough for his life time.

But I still _need _him. So my wish this Christmas? Someone to love me. It doesn't have to be this Christmas. I could wait... two-three years? Maybe five?

...

...

...

But it's never gonna happen 'cause Christmas is stupid. I only get one... ONE present every Christmas, and that's from my grandpa. So this year, I won't be receiving anything 'cause he's dead. And I had to watch Frannie open her tons, and maybe she'd give me those she didn't like... just like last year, and the previous year, and all the Christmas we've spent. And it's not like Santa would wrap up a person and put a ribbon on it... 'Cause lets not kid ourselves. Santa isn't real.

I think I'm losing my mind. I'm talking to myself for entertainment because I never had someone to talk to.

Then I hear a faint sound downstairs. And now I'm imagining sounds too. _Great.__  
><em>

Achooo.

_I really hope this cold will go down soon. My life sucks enough as it is. I don't need cold to repel other people from coming near me. My physical appearance is doing its fine job itself._

Thump. thump. Thump.

"Hello?" a my voice echoes through the hallowness of the room. I slowly reach for the railing of the stairs. "Who's there?" _Grandpa? _"Grandpa? Is that you?"

"Nope. He would've woken me up if he was here. He always does." I get closer to the living room as I realize how stupid (and desperate) I'm becoming. No one comes back from the dead, Lucy. That's just one of the facts in life. "At least he used to."

I stop dead at my tracks and had to push up my glasses to study this... _stranger _in our living room. It's girl... no a _lady? _with a black blazer over a white top, black trousers, and shin-high boots.

We couldn't have any visitor at this time of the night. She... She looks beautiful... would pass up as Frannie's friend, but she looks older than Frannie. Maybe she's in college? But I've never seen her before. And I've never heard of a _female _burglar before, but who knows these days? Better be sure.

"I'm probably going to call the police in, like, in twenty seconds," I inform her lightly. She looks harmless but I grab the phone nonetheless. I'm sure she's not a good person if she's trespassing someone else's house at Christmas Eve.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." _Oh, she speaks! _I return my gaze back at her and raise my eyebrow, "Why not?" I hover my finger over '9'.

"Because then, how would you be able to get all these amazing presents?" Her voice is now probably about as dry as a desert, if not drier.

My eyebrows furrow. That's the best she got? "Are you a burglar masquerading as Santa Claus? Because I'm telling you now, the flaw in the plan kind of lies in the fact that you're of the wrong gender." I cross my arms as I stare back at her. She's so... _different. _Different from what I used to anyway. Her hair, her body structure, her voice, her clothing. Yet it looks presentable... _right _even.

"I'd choose that over this any day." _And she's doesn't scream Christmas either._

"So...you're not a burglar?"

"Maybe."

"What are you?"

"Santa Claus," she replies. And I snort, _Yeah sure. And I'm pretty. _"No, but really."

She whips around to pin me with a glare that could... rival my sister's. I squint my eyes. Maybe she _is _one of my sister's mean friends after all... or a cousin... a _distant _cousin? She doesn't look like a Fabray at all. "Yes. I am Santa Claus. I may not look the part, but I sure as hell got the sled and the giant bag of presents to prove it."

My eyes widen. "presents?" What? Love what you can't have, right?

She sniffs to herself with disdain. "That's what I said, wasn't it?"

I look at her for a moment and maybe... and _maybe I _might actually believe her, then shakes her head. "No way. Santa Claus isn't even real."

"Okay," Stranger replies simply, crossing over to the tree and beginning to empty the contents of her sack under it.

"What are you doing?"

"What does it look like?" she grits out.

"Are those... presents?"

"Wrapped and delivered specially for you," Stranger retorts in a ridiculously sweet tone without missing a beat. Her sarcasm seems to be backing up my theory that I'm supposed to know her or at least be connected to her somehow.

"You're... real," I gape at her. "No way." Santa isn't real.

"I thought we'd pretty much established that," she replies tersely, already making a beeline for the fireplace.

"You're actual, genuine Santa? But... why do we all think you look like an old guy with a white beard? And that you wear red?"

"I wasn't in the mood to don the traditional costume," she mutters.

"And why is your name Santa? Or Nick? Or whatever?"

"My name isn't Nick," she corrects with a sigh. "That was my great grandfather's name. Every time the next boy in the family is old enough to take the job, he adopts the name Nick. Kinda like those popes you have here, or in Vatican City, or whatever."

"So, where's the boy in your family?"

"My father died last summer," she says softly after some time. _Oh. just like Grandpa? If you're Santa, and my grandpa is just a mere mortal, would they go to the same place? They seem to be both good people._

"It's only me now." _Just like me then._

_Look at that. Two lost souls on Christmas Eve._

"Oh," _This couldn't be a coincidence, right? _And maybe I'm just dreaming. My subconscious has probably playing mind tricks on me. So why not make the best out of it? "Well... What is your name?"

She blinks in surprise. "What?"

"Your name. What is it?"

She opens her mouth, only to close it again with a slight shake of her head. "I don't have time for this," she says, turning back towards the fireplace.

"Aw, c'mon," I said, "I bet it's something really pretty, like... Rose." She's my gift right? She _has _to be.

At this, _stranger_ can't help but turn back around to give me a look of utter disdain. _Rose?_ Geez Lucy. Where do you use all those brain cells? I can't help it though. I have a Rose in my class and I think she's really pretty. I should really learn how to stop this talking to myself thing. "Okay, maybe not Rose. But my point still stands. Pretty name for a pretty girl, right?" Maybe if I'm nice she'll be nice to me too. My grandpa always says, smile and the world will smile back at you. I tried it everyday, but it never really seems to work, but this... _stranger _hasn't stopped talking to me so I would keep going. Doesn't hurt to try, right?

She doesn't bother to dignify my words with an answer, choosing instead to step into the fireplace and place a foot on the brick of the chimney. _God, she's rude. She's probably the worst Santa out there. Well not really, _this is the longest conversation I had with someone so I'm still taking chances.

"Hey, wait, don't go! We, uh, we've actually got cookies and milk and stuff – wait, let me just go get them – please don't leave in the five seconds it'll take me to go get them! I promise it's worth it!"

I walk-runs while trying not to make a sound, because that would cause my sister or worse, my parents to wake up... or _worst, __me probably waking up in this dream. _so I wouldn't want to risk it. I grab the plate with cookies and pour a milk and tries to get back at the living room where I hope stranger is still waiting. I really have to get a name soon.

"I've got them!"

"You know, I kinda thought you would take off just now..."

"Believe me, it was tempting," Stranger mutters, backing out of the chimney and stepping out of the fireplace. She turns around, and finds herself suddenly face to face with me. For a minute, (it's feels like a lifetime) she stares at me. _stares _at me. Doesn't she know staring is rude? I clear my throat and take a step back. I need some space.

"Uh, here," I hold out a plate piled high with cookies (which I baked, nothing to brag about, it is expected on a Fabray to be good at everything, well as my dad used to say, in my case, _at least be good at something_) towards Stranger. "I made them."

Stranger takes them carefully, and almost lets her eyes widen when she can see them more clearly. She seems to study the patterns, which I hope she likes 'cause I worked really hard on it. She seems to be hesitant to take one, and I feel insecurity back at my heart. Baking is the one thing I'm _sure _I'm good at. Doesn't she think it tastes good as it looks?

Relief washed over me when she grabs a cookie from the plate, "I thought you didn't believe in Santa Claus?"

I only grin. "You know, you are nothing like I'd expect Santa Claus to be."

"Oh?" Stranger says with dry amusement. "What's different? The lack of the beard? The wrong coloured clothes? The age? Maybe the gender?"

"Well, there is that, yes," I agree, holding out the plate to her once more when I see that she's already finished off her second cookie. She must have liked it then! "But it's more that you're probably the least Christmas-y person I've ever met."

"I'll take that as a compliment," she mutters around a mouthful of shortbread.

I wait for her as she takes another cookie. I take this moment to study her face. Frannie is the prettiest girl I've ever seen, but this... stranger... I think she's pretty too. Beautiful even. With her tan skin, and that, cute dimple that appears when she chews. But her eyes. It's like she's sad... _and empty. _And I feel like my eyes mirror the same. Is it because she'd lost someone too?

Oh, I'm staring.

I know girls don't like it when people stare at them when they eat, 'cause I do, but this stranger doesn't seem to mind. One of the many things that makes her so different... and intriguing. What is wrong with me? I feel like Tarzan, seeing Jane for the first time. I might come off creepy to her. I should be friendly.

Yes.

Even though I've never had friends before-mind you, it wasn't from the lack of trying, I AM friendly. I initiate every conversation. I swallow my pride... (even though my sister thinks there's not really much to swallow), and keep on approaching my classmates every single day. It's just that they never really... find me worth their time. I study hard because mom said that intelligence attracts other people, but the boys at school just tease me over it.

I haven't scared this girl off, so I might as well keep going.

"So," I watch her finish her fourth cookie which is quite amusing. She reaches for the glass of milk on the table, drinking around half of it in one gulp. She must really be hungry. This delivery of presents is hard work after all. "You never told me your name."

Stranger frowns into her milk. By the way her eyes narrow, and her lips pressed in a thin line, I can see that she's thinking it over.

"I'm Santana," she says, a little hesitantly.

Santa..na?

I feel my lips turning upwards. No kidding. What gives?

"Santana." I repeat. Seriously? I might as well go with the teasing, "For real?"

By the way her eyes narrow at me, I'm thinking she's struggling to fight off that scowl coming. But I decide to introduce myself before she goes through it. "I'm Lucy," I have a second thought on adding Fabray.

_'always introduce yourself as a Fabray. You'll _need _it.' _My dad used to say.

I don't think Santa...na knows who the Fabrays are in North Pole. Or she must, 'cause she has to deliver our presents. But our status in life must be unimportant to them. So I just keep that to myself.

"Did you like the cookies?" I decide to tease her even more. She only huffs, getting up from the table and crossing once more to the fireplace.

"They were... okay," Santana replies, "Thank you," she manages.

I feel myself blushing and my smile growing. No one has ever said thank you to me before. No one has ever acknowledged I existed before.-aside from the boys who tease me everyday, and my classmates who laughs at me. Okay, maybe they do know I exist. They just don't think I deserve any respect... at all.

"Least I could do. Considering you left us our presents and all."

Santana looks at me as id studying me... again, then looks away quickly. "I should go," she says abruptly.

"Oh," Can't help but feel disappointment fill my heart. Of course she has to go. "Right. Of course. I bet you've still got loads of houses to get through, right?" Anything better than talking to a freak like me, right?

"Right," I glance over at her, and watches as she shifts awkwardly.

"Okay," I say quietly, offering her a hesitant smile. "I guess I'll see you next year, huh?"

"Yeah."

She climbs the chimney, and then seconds later she was gone.

_Santana._

I think I was frozen at my spot for a few minutes, replaying the whole thing in my mind.

I shake my head, when I'm sure I've memorized every scene, every image in my brain. I walk back towards my room as I recall every detail of Santana etched in my memory.

_Grandpa, I made a friend today._

The next day, Frannie and I are eating breakfast alone as my mom continues to talk over the phone about the preparations for the Christmas party later today, and my dad is... on his phone too, talking about _business _stuff.

I can't help but ask. "Do you think Santa is real?"

Frannie looks at me like I've grown another head. "Lucy, I think you're too old to believe in Santa."

"Who brings the presents then?" I glance over my shoulder towards the Christmas tree.

"Uhh... I don't know. Try mom and dad!" She says as she rolls her eyes at me. I slump my shoulders in defeat. Suddenly, I don't feel finishing my breakfast anymore. "You do know it's Grandpa who gives you those gifts, right?" I nod my head slowly. Of course all of it is just a dream. There's no way, Santa is real. Even if s/he is, it can't be a girl. A very attractive girl.

"Hey, you know what? I'll let you have any present you want." I feel Frannie put her hand over my shoulder comforting me. Great, the last thing I need is her pity.

"Lucy Quinn Fabray! What did I tell you about eating pass your bedtime?" I hear my mom's voice from my back, and I look at her confused.

"What?"

She walks towards me and put an empty plate and a glass over the counter. "This. I told you sweetie, if you want to lose some weight, there's no such thing as midnight snacks!"

I open my mouth to protest but close it again when realization dawns on me.

_Empty plate and glass._

Empty.

No way.

I hear my mother talk about the same thing she's been telling me all those years. Lose weight.

But my mind is in whirlwind, I nod my head slowly as if I'm processing her words, but really, I 'm thinking of last night.

It wasn't just a dream. I didn't make it all up.

When my mother is finished, I excused myself and went over to the Christmas tree.

I gape at what I saw. The presents weren't piled carefully the way my mother would've put it. It is the same way as Santana had dropped it last night.

Santana.

"You do know you have to rearrange that before dad sees it, right? You were lucky, mom didn't call you out on it." I hear Frannie says as she stands next to me looking at the Christmas tree too. "You were looking for your present aren't you?" She says with pity dripping off her voice.

"Fine. Two presents of your choice. Know what? Make that three. You'd need all the love you can get even if it's just for Christmas."

* * *

><p><strong>Lucy Quinn is 14 (December)<strong>

Three years of not seeing Santana is making me crazy. I'm Quinn now, and maybe she doesn't recognize me anymore, but it's all for the better now, right?

Why am I being like this? It's like being Lucy all over again. I doubt myself when it comes to her. I'm acting like I have some stupid crush on her. And I don't! I'm a girl... and a Christian, and most of all, I'm a Fabray. (finally, I could say that out loud... or in my mind) I simply _cannot _have a crush on a girl. Much less someone whom I pretty much made up in my mind?

"Quinn! Are you even listening?"

I snap back to reality when my friend-Yes. I have a friend now, is literally snapping her fingers across my face. I push it away and glare at her. "Yes!"

"What did I just say?" She puts her hand to her waist and taps her foot.

"Uhh... You _finally _decided to throw those sweaters away?" I forced a smile her way as she shakes her head. "Close."

She takes a seat next to me in my bed and we both fall back. "Where did you just go?"

Where I _wish _I would go.

North Pole.

To check if Santana is there.

Or she's just been lying at the back of my head all these time.

Ugh.

"Do you believe in Santa, Rachel?"

"I'm Jewish, Quinn."

Right.

"Well, hypothetically, do you think, it's possible that... Santa is real?"

Rachel chuckles and I feel like I'm just embarrassing myself even more. "Aren't you too old for Santa, Quinn?"

I hate it when people say it like that. Why can't they just say 'No, Quinn. I don't."

I sigh. Maybe I'm crazy. Maybe I've lost my mind.

I had imagined Santana when I was eleven. I thought I made a friend, just because I lost my grandfather, that one person who loves me back.

I had imagined meeting a blonde when I was twelve. I thought I made another friend, a much more friendly version this time, because hey, if you're making up a friend, why not make someone more cheerful and _kind._

I had imagined meeting the same blonde again which appears to be Santana's friend when I was thirteen because she has mentioned that Santana was sick. And my brain had probably projected that because I thought Santana is sick or dying somewhere for not returning to see me again. That, or I had scared her away just like I do with other people.

Maybe I really am just imagining things and that I was the one who ate those cookies and drank those milk.

So I had changed myself so I could gain some friends and maybe stop hallucinating every Christmas. That... and the hope that I'd meet Santana again.

"Have you ever felt something so strong it makes you believe that something is real, then reality hits you back at the face and tells you it was all just in your head?"

"All the time."

I look back at her and notice she was looking at me too.

Oh Rachel.

She told me she likes Finn, and they're actually getting along really well. And I _thought _that was her saying, 'I like Finn for you. You're cute together.' Because Finn and I are going back through this flirting, sneaking glances at each other. Then she got mad me and ignored for three days, and when I confronted her, she just yelled, and cried, and slapped me, not really in that order, and told me that she _likes likes _Finn.

"If it'll make you feel any better, I think I'm crushing on someone and that someone doesn't like me back."

She just shakes her head and that actually puts a smile on her face. Geez. Do I have to make myself feel bad to make her smile? "You don't have to lie to me to make me feel better, Quinn."

I sit up to look at her because she had turned away. "It's true. It's not even a crush, it's just..." I try to save some of the dignity I have left. I don't have a crush. I'm just trying to make Rachel happy. I'm just making this all up, just like Santana, and the blonde cheerful girl who replaced her, and the cookies, and the milk. I might as well make something up for Rachel, _like feelings_.

"Quinn, _everyone _likes you. Probably in love you. So no. Don't do this to me, okay?"

"But there's someone!"

"Who?"

I open my mouth to tell her. To finally tell someone about these weird encounters I have on Christmas Eves. But I can't. Because I'm scared she'll tell me it's all just in my head. And thinking about it is different, hearing it is another word. A weight to the words make it _real._

"Just as I thought."

* * *

><p>"You're back."<p>

She is back. _My Santana _is back.

I can't believe it. Or it's my depression probably kicking in and have decided to play mind tricks on me, _again_.

Eitherway, I'll take what I can get.

"I... You weren't here the year after. And last year... I thought... I thought you'd never come back." I step forward and she steps backward.

She looks exactly the same as she was three years ago. She opens her mouth and closes it without words coming out. It's adorable.

Well, I think I should go with the familiar ones. "I made cookies," I tell her, and I immediately reached for her hand. to lead her towards the temple.

"Again?" she asks, but my mind is so occupied about the fact that I've just _touched _Santana whom I've probably just imagined. Great, now I can imagine what it feels like to touch her. See? I can imagine feelings too.

"I made a few more than usual," I told her nodding towards the plate. The blonde girl who didn't give her name (she actually looks surprised that I even asked, even more surprised that I mentioned Santana's name.

Santana though, just frowns. "Why?"

"Well, apart from the fact that someone almost finished them off single-handedly last time..." I decide to tease her again. God, I miss her. I miss the way she studies my face for malice every time I say something, like she's trying to figure me out. I seriously hope I am not crazy, or so help me God, I'm starting to think my imaginary friend has a mind of its own.

"I thought your bestfriend might like some too," Might as well throw that too.

"Brittany?" Santana says without thinking. I smile brightly again. Ooh, my other imaginary friend now has a name too!

"Is that her name?" _Brittany. _I actually expected something like Noelle. Or Nicki. Or Nicole. Something related to Santa Claus.

"No – I mean, yes, but – we don't need your cookies," she tells me. And I'm surprised by her tone.

"I mean, sure – of course you don't, I just meant she might like them, is all," I explain earnestly.

Where is that cool and calm Quinn Fabray I has worked so hard for?

I've waited this day for three years, and I'm just throwing it all away because... because it's _Santana._

What's so special about her anyway? So what, if she's my first friend. It's not like we bonded over summer and she stayed by my side and was introduced to those kids at school. No, she just _disappeared. _Like a bubble. With no trace. (except for the empty plate and glass, which is probably my doings)

I'm such a mess.

I didn't notice Santana grabbing a cookie and eating it until she finally speaks, "I've never mentioned her"

"Who?"

"Brittany."

oh right. We were talking about the other friend I've imagined.

"Oh." And now I feel guilty. "I... I saw her the year after we met."

"I thought it was you, then I noticed... she wasn't. And I... I offered her cookies, and she likes it so I thought-"

"And what? You assumed she's my bestfriend?"

"I... I said your name and she looked surprise that I know you. And she told me you couldn't come because she wanted to be _Santa _that year. And she's your bestfriend so you can't say no." Now I feel embarrassed. Great, I've just thrown Quinn all away and had let Lucy take over. What is wrong with me?

And then I remembered why she wasn't here last year.

"You weren't here last year too. 'Cause you were sick. I... Are you okay now?" I was about to touch her forehead when she pulls away like I'll burn her or something.

"Of course you are. You're here." I whisper like I can't believe it.

God, remember when I asked for someone to love me? Nevermind that. I just wish Santana is real, and is here to stay. Just that, and I'll do whatever you want. Celibacy? My life devoted to the Virgin Mary? I will do all of that. Just please, make her real.

"But... you're not exactly 'you'." She said and I feel myself getting shy. Like Santana is some jock, I'm flattered to have her attention with.

"I'm Quinn now."

"Why?"

"Quinn is my middle name."

"So why did you start going with it?" She pause before adding, "I thinks Lucy is just fine."

I blush looking away. _Stop it. _I've probably just missed her that's why I'm acting like an idiot. "Well, you're the only who thinks that way."

If I made her up in my mind, might as well tell her the whole truth, right? Who she gonna tell? Her elves, and her reindeers?

"Kids made up mean nicknames."

"Like what? Juicy Lucy?" Santana snorts.

I'm hesitant as I put my lower lip between my teeth, something I've got from Lucy which I've never got rid of. "Lucy Caboosey."

From then on, I was on roll. "I hated the way I looked. I had zits. I was chubby. I felt terrible about myself. I didn't have friends. No one would talk to me."

I should stop talking. because it hurts. And my eyes are watering, and I promised myself I won't cry anymore.

"I was the only kid at school who had to dissect their own frog because nobody would be my lab partner."

And now I'm crying. So much for being Quinn, huh?

I was stunned when I feel Santana's hand on my cheek. Is she... is she wiping my tears?

_'Hush now, my princess. Grandpa loves you." _For a moment I felt like I've seen my Grandpa all over again.

When I feel her retracting her hand, I placed my hand over it as I smile back at her.

She just... _makes me feel stronger. _Makes me believe I could be better.

"I joined ballet, lost a little bit of weight, found out I was athletic, joined gymnastics, then cheerleading. 'Went on Proactiv for my acne. And when my dad got transferred and got a raise, I asked if I could get a nose job. And he said yes."

Santana looks around the house as if finally noticing it wasn't the same house where we met three years ago.

"So you hated yourself?"

"No. I love myself so I did those things." I shake my head as I grab Santana's hand with both my hands. I rub it gently as I notice it is cold. Why isn't she wearing any gloves? I blow on it as I keep myself from _actually _kissing it. "I was a miserable little girl. I've been that girl and I'm never going back."

I look back at Santana and smile at her, but I notice her frown instead.

"You... You don't like it?"

My heart sank when she shakes her head slowly "No-yes... I... I just... I was hoping... I just... I was at your house, 10 minutes ago. Well, your old house anyway. And you weren't there. So I thought, I would never get to see you again. And it turns out... I really wouldn't see Lucy again."

Frannie is in college and before she left, she had to broke up with her high school boyfriend. I _accidentally _heard them talking, though Frannie might have told me to listen so I would take notes and how to do a clean break up. Frannie, made it seem like they were both changing and they're just not meeting in the middle like they used to...

I hold into Santana's hand tighter, and I wait until she's looking back at me.

"I... I'm still me. Sort of."

And it's just like how Frannie did it. Santana pulls her hand back, and it hurts like hell. Now I know what Alex felt.

"Thanks for the cookies." Santana says as she moves towards the Christmas tree to put our presents.

How is this possible? She was the only person who _liked _Lucy... How can she not like Quinn? How can I not have her when I have everyone else?

I'm looking everywhere but her, 'cause I feel like I can't watch her physically walkaway from me.

"Hey. For what it's worth. I think Lucy's great. I mean, yeah sure. Being human sucks, 'cause no matter how great you are, how talented you are at baking those cookies, the first thing people notice is how much weight you put on. Which is pathetic because what does your weight tell about you anyway?"

I look at her, unsure if I should believe Santana.

"But you don't like me."

"Of course I do." She answers a little to quickly, like I'm not supposed to know that because she puts her hand over her mouth.

"You don't mean that." I shake my head. Now I know how Rachel felt awhile ago. "You said you don't."

I promise to call Rachel tomorrow morning, apologize to her and stick with her.

She likes me.

Everyone else knows her.

And more importantly, _She's real._

"You're the first person who made me feel like I'm not a nobody. You made me feel like a somebody. So it gave me courage to change, to be better. And now... Now that I've changed. And that people are noticing me... You... You don't like it."

Santana shakes her head in protest. She moves forward towards me and she's probably not sure where to put her hands because she clench it and unclench her fists.

"My opinion doesn't matter-"

"It does. It does to me."

She looks taken aback by my answer and I am too but I don't show it because, well, it's already there. She's silent for a while as if thinking what to say next. "Did you bake those cookies?" Santana turns her eyes on the... now empty-plate on the kitchen counter, and I slowly nod my head because Santana has no idea about the art of subtlety.

"Then we're still good." Santana smiles at me, FOR THE FIRST TIME. "I don't care if you're Lucy... or Quinn, or if you're blonde, or your chubby. As long as you keep those cookies coming, I'll always like you."

Oh God, I shouldn't be feeling this way. Stop it heart. Stop. "Really?"

"Yup." Santana continues to put out the gifts the same way she did three years ago. And now I laugh.

The empty plate and glass. Check

The gifts. Check.

"Will I see you again?"

"Will you rearrange that?" Santana points to the gifts messily on the floor near the Christmas tree.

"No. It's my _only_ reminder that you're real."

It's what keeps me sane.

"That and the empty plate?"

This time I smile. "That, and the empty plate."

Santana finds her self smiling back. Without answering me, she went to the fireplace and disappear.

If on the next day, I see this place, just the way as it is. I wouldn't care what others think.

Santana _is _real.

And it's not just all in my head.

Because I've touched her, and she touched me. And she _smiled _back at me.

You don't make up feelings.

I've felt something. Though I'm not sure what it meant.

For now, that is enough.

* * *

><p><strong>Lucy Quinn is 17 (November)<strong>

"Babe, that was amazing!"

Yes, of course, only I'm just too busy processing what just happened to make sense whatever Puck was saying to me. I felt an overwhelming sense of panic like that time I'd been locked in Frannie's closet. The walls had felt like they were closing in and this wasn't unlike that. I gulped in a deep breath, discreetly and glanced back to the expectant light brown eyes.

Puck is different when he's with me. He used to flirt with most girls but when we started dating, he only had eyes for me. His eyes held a warmth so sincere it makes my heart flutter every time he sets it on me. I'm the only girl he really cared for, and that makes me feel special. The warm, gentle hand on my shoulder drew my attention and I glanced back to my boyfriend, the man I chose to lose my virginity with, and I felt like I was seeing him for the first time.

"Are you all right?" He asked, his brow furrowed in concern. I forced myself to nod, gulping in another breath. He seemed almost relieved as he smiled back at me. "Did you hear what I said?"

I caught the uncertainty on Puck's face just before he hid it, and felt guilt settle at the bottom of my stomach and begin to boil.

Why can't I just say, it was amazing for me too?

Frannie said that her first time sucked and hurt. And well, I think it's the same for me too. But I _love Puck. _So that should compensate, right?

Looking back slowly, I tried to compose myself. What could I say to reassure Puck?

I fight back the tears threatening to drop. I leaned in and kissed him instead, which he is happy to respond to. I feel his hand roaming my body again, and all I could think of is how this might have been a bad idea.

* * *

><p>I'm decided to take Art Classes on my Senior year just in case I might use it for college next year, even though I'm set up to what I already want to take, and I'm due to pass<em>something <em>for our final requirement. I really had no idea what to do so I asked my instructor, Miss Holiday a few weeks back and she said that I have all these things in my mind. She told me to just close my eyes and think of that one thing I just _can't shut down._

I expected Puck to just pop up. His handsome smile, his broad shoulders, his strong arms_. _Anything that would relate to him. Anything that made me _love _him.

I grabbed my stencil and started sketching him.

And for days, it worked.

Until one lazy afternoon, Rachel had snatched my sketchpad from me and looked at my work.

"It's not yet finished!"

Rachel squints her eyes at the picture and then looks back at me. "Look, I'm working on it, okay? And hey! You know I hate it when people look at my drawing when it's not yet done!" I started getting defensive. I don't like the look she's giving me.

She hands back the sketchpad to me and I put it in my chest, hugging it protectively. She hugs me from behind as she puts her chin on my head. "You know you could just break up with him."

"What?"

"Quinn, you've been working on this thing for a week now, and look at your work? It's not even his eyes! Clearly you're thinking of someone else." She traces the eyes as she slowly massages my shoulders.

"I love him." my words muffled as I dropped my face to the pillow on my bed.

"Who are you convincing, me or you?"

I turn around and open my sketchpad again. Every time I draw something, I erase it immediately and replace it with _Santana's _features. And I hate myself for it. It's like she's a fictional character I'm fangirling over and over for years. Except she's not. She makes it seems like _she's real. _But I can't know for sure, because no one has seen her. Should I feel special? Should I panic? Well, clearly, I'm confused.

"Why don't you just draw her instead?" Rachel told me softly.

I told Rachel about Santana. Except the fact that she's Santa. And I only see her during Christmas Eve. For all Rachel knows, Santana is a family friend who is in college so we don't see each other a lot, but when we do it's...

"I _need _to draw Puck, Rachel. That's the assignment!"

"Quinn, you've had sex with Puck! Did it change anything? Did you feel your bonds getting stronger? I don't think you can do anything to _prove_-"

"I don't have to prove anything!"

"Then why do you _need _to draw him?"

I hate it when Rachel gets the last words.

* * *

><p><strong>Lucy Quinn is 19 (week before Christmas Eve)<strong>

I've decided to spend my Christmas vacation in New York with my friend Rachel before we have to both go back to our homes for the holiday.

"So, am I finally meeting your girlfriend?"

"How many times do I have to tell you, Santana is _not _my girlfriend!"

Rachel looks at me, smirking, her eyebrows raised. "Yeah, I was talking about _Julia?_"_  
><em>

I open my mouth but no words are coming out. _Crap._

You know how I only told Rachel about Santana so she is this one person I talk to about her? And sometimes she teases me about it, implying that this crush has turned into an infatuation. And at some point I've accepted the idea that I may be into girls. It wasn't easy, I was in denial... for 5 years maybe. But Rachel helped me. And my sister supported me too. Funny how crazy my relationship with my sister, she's the only one in my family who truly cares about me... in her own weird way.

_"You're my little sister, Lucy. Of course I love you."_

Then I started seeing this girl Julia, in my Bio class. I've seen two girls before her, but she's the first girl I started going out with for a couple of times now. I think there might be something in there. I just don't know if it's enough to overcome my _infatuation_ with the burglar who stole my heart when I was eleven.

"Of course, you are." I look at Rachel pointedly. I go to next aisle and continue on my hunt for Christmas gifts. Rachel had decided to put off Christmas shopping until I come to New York, which gives us _three _days to get everything. And I'm finding it hard to finish this task at hand. I get really picky and I tend to _find something _wrong with most of the things I see.

Rachel catches up to me and loops her arm to mine, "Aside from the drawings, you've never really shown me her pictures. I mean yeah sure, she's beautiful, and you're talented, you make it seem like it's a black&white photo of her, but come on, _Quinn. _Are you hoarding all her photos?"

I scoff at her. _Yeah, _I'm hoarding all her photos alright._  
><em>

A part of myself is superficial. I feel that if I take a photo of her, she wouldn't show up in the picture, and that part of me is terrified.

I believe that she is real.

She is real to _me._

What if she isn't real to the rest of the world? I've never heard rumors of someone, _seeing _Santa. But then again, most of those stories are told by kids. Santana told me, that she has this magic dust, that can erase human memory of her. And I've asked her why she hasn't used it on me.

_"Then, who's gonna give me those cookies?"_

I've decided to drop the subject because I chose to be selfish and savor the special treatment.

"Hey! How about this one?" I look at where Rachel was pointing. "Do you think she'll like it?"

"Have I told you how amazing you are?" I smile brightly as I ask the saleslady to wrap up this item.

* * *

><p><strong>Lucy Quinn is 22 (October)<strong>

"You have to stop _this, _Quinn!" Rachel hisses as she pushes me at my bed, and she continues to pace in front me. Words such as 'disappointment', 'waste', and 'sad' was thrown out there. I suddenly feel like fourteen again when my dad would lecture me for a simple mistake I've made. _Like not meeting _his expectations? And his well-prepared speech of what it takes to be a _Fabray._

I've confessed to Santana two years ago and she run away from me. Last year, she came back and we made up and everything came back to normal. With us _being friends. _And I don't want to be friends.

So I go around meeting new people. Going out on dates. Maybe sleeping with this one girl... Samantha? Then I just missed Santana more. So this time, I've decided to try with a guy. But Rachel came in and had pulled him off of me when we were one moment away from doing it.

_"_Are you high, right now?" She grits out when I find myself giggling. "No, I don't think so. I'm drunk. And I was about to sleep with _Nate! _He is so... hot-"

"More like a male version of you?" I ignore her and continue to list off the _attractive _things I find on him.

"And you!" A point at Rachel and tries so hard to make my glare as threatening as it was in high school, "you ruined all that! We're gonna have some ho-"

"Quinn, you're a lesbian." Rachel deadpans, and I find it amusing how she could be pissed at one point, then bored the next. She's amazing. Why can't I just be in love with her? Then I imagine us _together, _hugging, kis- _Blech. _She's like a sister!

"Maybe I'm bi? I've been with Puck!"

"You were hiding, Quinn." Rachel says softly as she puts her hand at my back and runs it in circles.

I slump my shoulders in defeat. I just can't win with her.

"Why don't you call Santana? Maybe not now, 'cause you're drunk and you'd probably say words you'd regret-"

"I already did, and she doesn't _want _me!" And now, I start sobbing. Ugh. I want to stop crying. How is it possible to be in love with one person for... ten years maybe? When that person isn't even _real. _I can't be in love with an imaginary friend! And I can't talk to someone else about this. Because I'm afraid that they'll scold me.

"Did she tell you that? That she _doesn't _want you?"

"No." I say weakly. Why can't she just let it go? Why can't she just tell me 'its her loss.' and tell me how great I am, maybe lift up my spirits? Isn't that the protocol? Your bestfriend tells you how crappy your ex was and tell you all the great stuff about you?

"Then why-"

"She just _left! _In what _world _does that mean she doesn't want me back? I hate how stupid she is! How she plays dumb about _my feelings! _Of course she knows, she knows about it, and she chooses to ignore it because we _can't _be together, I _know _that because I'm not stupid like she is! But unlike her, I chose not to runaway from it!" I'm so angry at Santana. Because she's a coward. And she _always _run away. And it's impossible! And it's crazy to even think that we could be _together _at the end, but why do we think of the future when we can't even handle the present?

Does that make sense?

Ugh. And here I am talking to myself again! Maybe I should talk to a shrink instead.

Rachel must have left me to process my thoughts, and then she speaks up, "Did she came back?"

I look at her slowly confused by her words. "Did she came back for you? When she left?" I nod my head weakly. She did. She came back last year. And she told me she _missed _me. Then she just had to say, _'a year in a human world is just 2 months in my world.' _So for her to say that she missed me means a lot. But what can I get from that? Another thing I hate about Santana? She doesn't know how to talk about feelings. Which is frustrating. And it makes me crazier!

She takes a deep breath and holds my gaze, "Even if the distance seems far, run after her. Even if it feels like she isn't next to you, grab on to her."

Finn and Rachel got together junior year. Rachel wasn't a second choice to Finn. He did not settle for her, because he did fall in love with her in the process. And they were so _in love _with each other they had this whole future set up for them. That until, Finn had to sign up for the military after high school because Burt died, and they needed the money. So eventually, they _had to _break up so Rachel could go to New York. Rachel was patiently waiting. She didn't have to tell me. But I know she is. She started dating in her sophomore year, they even lasted a year, but I know she's just waiting for _him _to come back to her. Except he never did. It was his _first _assignment... and his _last._

"Do you miss him?" She just lays her head on my shoulders and intertwines her fingers to mine.

"I didn't give up on him, Quinn. 'Cause I know... I know he was my person. Is Santana your person?"

Is she?

Santana... I've always... always been chasing after you... even... now, even when you've run away from me. But... this year, I'm going to stop once and for all. Next time, I'll be next to you, holding your hand... and _kissing _you! Just give me _something _to hold onto, and I would wait for you. You know, I would.

And if... _if you_ don't feel the same way. I'll stop.

It'll be hard, but I can take it. I _have to._

* * *

><p><strong>Lucy Quinn is 25 (Christmas)<strong>

Rachel was shocked seeing me at 1:24 am on Christmas, but I usher her in either way. I've called her minutes passed after Santana left.

She gives me milk, and I cry harder. Milk reminds me of Santana.

"Sweetie, why don't you tell me what happened?" Rachel said softly as she puts a strand of my hair behind my ear.

It hurts. Everything hurts. I was willing to give my life to her. To wait for her every year. It'll be hard, but it'll be worth it because I'll be with her. She'll make it worth it.

"It's over. She broke up with me."

Rachel's eyes saddened and she hugs me tightly. "I'm so sorry."

_"Why does human always apologize for things they are not responsible for?" Santana used to ask._

Shut up brain. You can't associate everything with Santana. She left my life.

My eyes start gushing tears again and Rachel's face startles, and her eyebrows knit together. "Oh, Quinn," She tangles her fingers in mine, and then pulls me closer to her.

We later on moved to my bedroom. We snuggle with each other in bed as I cry. "Quinn." Rachel says after some time. I'm not crying anymore, but I still have my face pressed against her. My own tears are making her skin damp and uncomfortable against mine, but I don't care. "Do you wanna talk about it?"

I pulled away from her slowly, and wiped away my tears. I looked her in the eyes pleading. "I'm gonna tell you something, and you _have to _believe me. Promise me, you'll believe me."

"Quinn, you're scaring me."

"Promise me, _please."_

Rachel nods slowly. "I promise."

I took a deep breath, then I close my eyes.

"You know how Santana and I only meet during Christmas season...-"

I tell her _everything.__  
><em>

* * *

><p><strong>Lucy Quinn is 26 (May)<strong>

_"Last Christmas, I gave you my heart, but the very next day, you gave it awa-"_

"You have to stop!" Rachel shuts down the music and I frown at her.

"That's our song!" I whine.

"Quinn, I've been putting up with you for _five months _now. I've been understanding even. I'm glad. That you've started living your life again. But I swear, if I have to listen to _Taylor Swift _one more time, I think I'll-"

"You don't get to judge me, Rachel! I've been by your side when Finn died!" I snapped at her. I don't know if I should use that against her. because even though she's married now, I still think she has a spot for Finn.

"Yes! And I'm truly grateful. But look at what you're doing to yourself! I don't think that's what Santana wants-"

"She wants kids, Rachel! And I can't _give _it to her! I guess artificial insemination isn't accepted procedure in her world!" I raised my voice again. I know Rachel doesn't deserve this but I don't have someone else to yell to. "Why has she gone to where I cannot follow?"

She's silent, and I wonder if I had pushed her away too.

Frannie came last month when Rachel called her. I've cried to her too but I didn't tell her about Santana. She just know Santana broke up with me because we _can't _be together anymore. Frannie didn't ask anymore explanations. She just stayed by my side and helped my got back to my feet. i'm getting there.

Being unable to eat and sleep is the basic thing. Waking up in the middle of the night will become a daily routine. Because the one you love has turned into someone else, you also can't whine to each other for the fear of being scolded by that person. So, you cry by yourself. But what hurts the most is that person doesn't actually miss me like the way I do. It's like that person has forgotten about me and is simply being happy alone. All you want to do is die, but you can't die either… because you're scared that you won't see that person again.

It is until Rachel speaks up again that I looked up into her, "There are things that are thought of as fantasies merely because they're far away. Just as it is with people who are too beautiful, they readily disappear."

"What?"

Rachel reaches my hand gently, "When you called me that night, I was so worried. I thought _you __killed _someone. And you know what's crazy? Is that I would've covered your tracks, because I know you probably have a reason to do so, I just know you're not insane. So imagine my shock when you started talking about _not just falling in love with Santa, _but_actually _having a relationship with Santa. And to tell me that your only proof is the _empty plate and glass of milk. _Maybe Santana is just a fantasy."_  
><em>

"You promised me you'll _believe _me!" I cried. I wouldn't be able to handle it if Rachel had thought I'm crazy all these time

"I did! And I still believe you. Because even though it's a lot to take in. I _know _you, Quinn. And I've never seen you so _broken _like this before. So _Santana _had to be _real."_

"So you listen to me. And you listen to me very well."

I nod weakly. But I hold into her for support anyway.

"What you had with Santana is real. Tragically romantic even. But it has ended. You've been listening to Last Christmas, right? Yes, it's sad. But it's about moving on... _'this year, to save me from tears. I'll give it to someone special.' _At least _trying _to move on.

Before she leaves me to my thought, she speaks up one more time, "Promise me-no, promise _yourself, _you won't wait for her this Christmas. _promise."_

Is this what you want?

* * *

><p><strong>Lucy Quinn is <strong>**30 (June)**

I watch as Rachel smile brightly at my engagement ring. She continues to gush over it as I think of how lucky I am to find Clarisse and for her to fall in love with me.

_Engagement ring._

Few years back, I would never thought of getting married. I had gave up on that thought when I knew I was in love with Santana.

But here I am. Engaged.

How did Santana became a big part of me when I've only been with her for 24 hours tops? And it's only composed of borrowed time every year.

Over the years, I've realized how beautiful Santana is. _And therefore, how far away she is from me._

Being with Santana is like flying so close to the sun. It's exhilarating. But what happens when you get too close to the sun? Your wings get burnt.

Rachel said it's okay to think of Santana. Because she's been a big part of my life, it'll be impossible to just forget about her. Rachel is married to Thomas now, and she still thinks of Finn.

I mean maybe what happened between Santana and I was a blessing in disguise. Maybe we just weren't meant to be and that Clary is possibly the person I'm meant for. She picked up the pieces. She knew what she was bargaining for and she still want me.

_I just want someone who would love me back when I stop loving myself._

Maybe it was Clary who I was waiting for all this time.

And me? I didn't go to Med School. Instead, I moved to New York with Rachel and took Baking Classes instead.

And here we our in my own Cafe.

_"Yes, ten of those, please! It turns out I've developed a craving!"_

It can't be. I can't hear what Rachel was saying because the voice. It's just not possible...

I look back at the glass-pane counter to see a woman smiling brightly at her employee pointing at her specialty cookie.

"Quinn?" I ignore Rachel as I walk towards her.

"Santana?" I grab her arm and that makes her turn around and drop the paper bag with her cookies. _The cookies I baked._

She has one caught between her teeth and I would've found it cute if my heart isn't pounding like it wants to jump out of its cage... that or the confused look she has on her face... the same face I'm familiar with... the same face I fell in lo-

"Quinn what's wrong?" Rachel said as she tries to grab my hand away from Santana, but I refuse to let go. Not now. Not this time.

"Excuse me?" Santana finally speaks up, and God. I missed her voice. I miss everything about her.

She looks back at my hand on her arm, then back at me, then to Rachel as if asking what is wrong with me.

"Quinn, you have to let go. Because well, I think you're hurting her. And people are starting to look our way." Again, I ignore Rachel. She had seen Santana. I've drawn her a couple of times so she should know. She should know this girl in front of me is _my Santana._

My Santana.

Except, it's not snowing outside.

It's not December

It's not Christmas.

So how is she here?

In daylight?

"Ugh! I've waited _two _months to eat those! I was really looking forward to that! You know just... ugh." She forcefully grabs her arm away from me. She seems to be really pissed._Two months._

Rachel offers an apology and asked to buy her another bag. She bows and went quickly to the counter.

"Are... Are you Santana?" I asked her, my voice shaking.

I wait for her. Just like I have always been.

"Yes" she answers hesitantly.

"Oh God. How is that possible? It can't be! it's not Christmas! It's not... you're here. You're _back!_" I engulf her with a hug and I inhaled her scent. It is the same as the last time we saw each other. Memories come flashing back. The happy memories, the bad ones.

"I... uhhh... wish I could share the same enthusiasm you have... "

I pulled back, with both my hands at the either side of her face, to see it crumpled up in confusion. My face is probably a mess right now but I don't care.

_"Do I know you?"_

* * *

><p><strong>Have you guys read House of Hades by Rick Riordan? If not, well I would quote him<strong>

_'To my wonderful readers:_

_sorry about the last cliff-hanger_

_well, no, not really. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA_

_But seriously, I love you guys.'_

**Again, I am NOT sure if I would do a sequel, I probably won't! (for real this time, I have no idea where to go from here-actually, I do, I just don't know how to put it in words, and my ideas are all messed up, if I tried, you'd most likely hate it.)**

* * *

><p><strong>THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE THE ORIGINAL LAST PART OF THE FIRST ONE:<strong>

**Annie is 5**

Santana had been to Quinn's house for nine years, and Quinn, to her promise, wasn't there waiting for her. If Santana would've been given another chance, she still would have done the same thing. She lets her go so she could have the happy life she deserves. She misses her. Every day of her life. And how she wished she has some magic ball that can show her how Quinn is doing all these years.

On this year though to her surprise, she finds it somehow nostalgic to see a plate of cookies and a glass of milk waiting on the table on the living room by the fireplace at her... 56643rd? house. She sets down her sack of presents by the tree and slowly walks towards the table.

She grabs one cookie hesitantly, the smell of cinnamon overpowering her sense, memories of the girl she used to know flooding her mind, fills her.

"Santa?"

She nearly drops the cookie she was holding as she hears a little girl's voice.

"I can't believe it, you're real! Mom said you weren't but Mommy-oooh!"

_Don't turn back._

She slowly put her hand on her pocket as she reach for her magic dust. She brings it with her now, just in case _this _happens.

_You promised no to do the same mis_- (she can _never _consider Quinn a mistake) _again_.

She has a fistful of dust ready for action, when she feels the little human hugs her legs, she does not dare look down. She has a soft _spot _for kids. Because Christmas _is _for kids! It's like every Santa's weakness.

Unexpectedly, she feels the little human reach for her free hand with both of her (also) little hands.

Little human giggles, "Mommy is right, you do have a cold hand! You should wear mittens, Santa!" Little human rubs her hand.

_No. Stop it._

The little human offers her the plate of cookies as high as she could and offers Santana a warm smile. "They're your favorite! Do you like it? Do you like it? I helped my mommy do it!"

_Mommy?_

She feels her eyes water as the impact of her words hit her. Suddenly, she's on the floor, probably because her leg is suddenly too weak, or so she could see her.

"Are you okay?" Little human's eyebrow furrow, concern written all over her cute face.

Santana feels the little girl's right hand to the side of her face, her left hand wiping her tears.

_She has her eyes._

She opened her mouth to say something... _anything _at all.

_Stop. You don't cry, Santana. You don't._

She leans in to put a chaste kiss on Santana's forehead. And Santana had to fight herself from recoiling.

_Quinn, what have you been teaching your child?_

"Mommy does that when I cry, then I stop crying." Then she puts her small arms around Santana's neck and she remembers her hand on the magic dust in her pocket._  
><em>

She promised herself to not be in this situation again.

"It's gonna be okay, 'Ana. I'm here."

She loses it. She puts her arms around the little girl and she hugs her back.

_I've let you go for _this.

* * *

><p><strong>But I was like, Hope breeds eternal misery so why not put a cliff-hanger instead?<strong>

**Which ending do you prefer? (ps, I might put that one back to Last Christmas, for future readers)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you for everything! I'm really grateful that you (somehow) liked it!**

**I'm sorry if I've caused a panic. I plan on continuing this (that's why it wasn't tagged as completed?) I just wasn't sure _when. _So I put together something fast to calm you down... (or cause more pain, I'm not sure)  
><strong>

**To all the guests who reviewed, how i wish I could reply to you in private! But for what it's worth... I'm sorry for leaving you like that! If you decide to stick 'till the end... then there's more angst to come. (just saying)**

**(to the guest in LC): **(I hope you stuck around with this one) I do agree with you! I think Quinn is one of the realistic teenagers in high school because high school is where you _try _to find yourself. Even if I still think the writers suck at giving her those plot lines, they unconsciously gave her this 'relatable' persona. (Except when she's supposed to be with her '_soulmate' (*gag*) _)Santana started off as the character who most of the viewers will like because of her wits. (Like Barney of HIMYM, Max of 2BG)

**Jammy: **Thank you for your kind words! I thought the last part was a bit rushed, don't you think? I don't know a better way (or really- a more dramatic way) for them to meet again.

**'will stick with my version of Quinn, for more _pain.__  
><em>**

* * *

><p>Is it possible to feel this much heartbreak with the same person every. single. time? and every time, the cut gets deeper, adding salt to my wound.<p>

Santana takes my breath away.

In both best and worst kind of ways. In both _blissful _and _excruciating painful kind of _way.

I physically had to step back from her when she said those 4 words.

_Do I know her?_

She doesn't get to _forget _about me and everything we've been through. She _doesn't _get to have the convenient way out to deal with this mess she left me with!

I've been dealing with this constant doubt that she was all in my head all my life! And for her to just... to simple just _forget _about me, like I meant _nothing _to her...

I'm more _devastated _than angry at her.

I feel Rachel's arms around me as she realized this inner struggle I'm having within me. But this weight on me is so heavy, I don't think any physical support will hold me together.

"I don't have time for this..."

_Stop saying words you've already told me. At least save me from reminiscing everything we've been through. At least save me from all these _feelings.

"Please don't go!"

I was stunned. I thought it was me. Because there's this part of me. This part of me, even small, had _always _belonged to Santana. The _Lucy _inside me, had always wanted Santana to stay. From _that _night, Santana stole Lucy from me. And the Lucy left in me had always wanted Santana... for her other half to come back to her.

So it's only reasonable that those words come from me, right? But it didn't. Because this pain is overpowering me, and is eating me inside that it's blocking everything from coming out.

It was Rachel who said that, and I look at her eyes wide open. (as wide as it is possible with all the tears coming out from it)

Santana, for her part, looked at her in confusion.

"You need to talk to her. _Please._"

_Rachel, what is wrong with you?_

Bestfriends would save their bestfriend from all these pain. They would slap their exes and tell them to rot in hell and to never see their bestfriend again.

I dare look back at Santana. And I saw her uncertainty... and honesty at the same time, like she _really _doesn't remember me. But what I hate the most?

Is I see the same _sadness _and _emptiness _she had when we first saw each other. As if she had lost someone.

Just like me.

As if we had lost each other.

How can she lose me if she doesn't even remember me?

"She is the owner of this shop!" Rachel turns cheerful this time, getting into her endorser persona. (She had volunteered herself to be my public figure so to speak _for _free. According to her, it would be a training for her in her future career as a star, and _my cafe _will benefit from it in the future) And to put icing to the cake, "She baked those cookies!"

At _that, _Santana's eyes brighten. _That _had won her over. What gives?

_What is with you and my stupid cookies?_

"Really?" And that adorable dimples came back with a vengeance.

"Yes! Please, have a seat!"

They seem to forget that they are talking about me, and I. Am. Right. Here. Having the most complicated internal breakdown, no one seems to care.

Next that I know, we were back at our table and Rachel had somehow convinced Santana to stay. Now I'm wondering, what would have been if I introduced Rachel to Santana all these time, maybe Santana would've stayed longer.

Santana's looking at me now, a little unsure but she's _smiling _at me. Just like the way that she did when she told me we'll always be okay (more like she'll always like me) as long as I make those cookies. It's unfair to have all these memories, and she had none. It's unfair that she doesn't remember anything, and I _cannot forget._

"I only have few minutes left because I need to go back to our studio, but I just want to tell you... Setting what... happened awhile back, I think you're great! Amazing even! It's crazy how talented you are with your hands...-"_  
><em>

_Yeah, you've said that to me too. Only you weren't talking about my baking skills._

Stop. it. brain.

Don't think of Santana like that!

It would seem that I got lost to what she was saying because even without my consent, my brain had taken me to the times (happy times) that we were together. The time when we were _actually together. _In a normal relationship, it would've been called the honeymoon phase.

I snap back to reality when Rachel nudged my shoulder looking at me expectantly.

I clear my throat and wiped my tears. I _tried _to look stronger. At least put up a facade to her. "Why have I seen you only now?"

I can see Rachel shaking her head, clearly disappointed at my first words. _Whose side are you on?_ I might have said it harshly because Santana was taken aback. She recovered quickly but still looked confused.

"What _Quinn _here meant was" Rachel clears her throat, smiling brightly at her and I glare at my supposed to be friend. I feel betrayed right now. "You seem to be a regular because the employee knows your usual, so she's wondering why she hasn't seen you."_  
><em>

Santana seems to have accepted Rachel's excuse. "Oh, we're still settling here in New York. This is literally the first thing I tried, and I got hooked. You must have been putting something special in there."

_Stop flirting with me._

"It's a family recipe."

Yes, Quinn. Keep it short.

There's no other way of showing you want to stop the conversation but replying with short sentences.

"Oh." Santana picks up the game I'm playing. And she has the audacity to look disappointed, still the confusion is written all over her face by the way her eyebrows furrow. "Well, we had this... project so to speak, so we've been busy for two months. And this sort of became my prize, so I was looking forward to it." She looks at me as if waiting if I'll apologize for dropping her cookies.

I think she has more reasons to apologize than me so I don't say anything.

_Rachel _again, decides to take her side and lets out a sigh.

"So you said you have a studio? Is it like a recording studio?"

Santana reluctantly shifts her gaze from me to Rachel and offers her a smile. "No, it's a dance studio. I teach the kids and the newcomers," Of course you handle the kids. You _need _kids, remember? I roll my eyes at her and that seems to get noticed by Santana because I saw her jaw tightened. "and when we get asked for choreography for special projects it's my friend-"

"Brittany" I whisper closing my eyes.

The conversation stops and I slowly open my eyes to meet _hers._

"How do you know?" She narrows her eyes at me. Clearly, the whole I-admire-you mood she had had long jumped out of the window.

Rachel had feel the tension growing and she reached for my arm, like I'm going to suddenly reach for Santana and do something unthinkable.

"Look, I've tried to ignore you practically ambushing me awhile back which you _didn't _even explain to me. And _maybe _I thought, you've just got the wrong person. The _wrong _Santana. 'Cause hey, maybe there's another Santana out there which somehow looked like me? Which I had to force myself to believe because this is all confusing to me until you've just dropped the whole act and gave me the cold shoulder. I've been friendly, because clearly you're upset. And then suddenly, you know Brittany too?"

I clench my jaw. _How dare she say all those things?_

I've been there! I _had _forced myself to believe everything we've been through made sense! I've actually dragged Rachel with me to insanity. I _was _friendly! I _made _effort for us to work! Also, I _did_ the flirting!

All you did was give up on us!

She opens her mouth but didn't say anything. I might have said that out loud.

Still, I wait for her. Because that's what I've always been doing all these time.

I didn't expect her next actions though.

She _reached _for my face and wiped my tears.

I didn't even notice I was crying.

"Seeing me... is causing you this much pain?"

_There she is again. Making me feel like we're the only people in the world._

"I remind you of someone... Someone who had hurt you so bad, and is probably still hurting you. Because you don't even wipe your tears when you cry. You must have been used to it. Crying for this person, I mean."

She smiles sadly at me. My mind pulled me out again. Seems to be doing it before i can help it.

* * *

><p><strong>Lucy Quinn is 21 (Christmas Eve)<strong>

_To find our way back to being friends, this year, we are looking at our gifts as I tell her a story about the 'sender'. Suddenly, I miss grandpa, and I have this urge to talk about him, because I miss him. 'Cause it feels like breathing his name gives life to him, so I_ need _to talk about him. But I'll just feel sad, and I'll miss him more so I try my best not to._

_"You can cry when you miss him, Quinn." Santana said as she put her hand on my chin to make me look at her. How can she know when I think of my grandpa? Does she have some mind-reading skills I don't know about? "I used to cry when I miss my dad. I don't even notice when I'm crying. Because sometimes. When you're too broken, you don't feel the pain anymore."_

_Oh. So she just knows what it feels like._

_"Used to? You don't cry anymore?" I need to learn how she does that. I'm tired of crying._

_She smiles at me. A sight I get used to. "Not recently." She looks away almost shy, which had never happened. (Except when I tease her how much she loves my cookies. I wonder why._

_"When my dad died, he left a part of me empty, and for a while, not even the sweetest smiles of kids on Christmas or Brittany's kindness can fill the hole he left me with behind. But now..."_

_My heart starts beating faster. I can almost heart its beat._

_She smiles at me, and oh, how much I want to kiss her right now. Maybe I would. If this is going where I think it is going._

_"I think your cookies are filling me so good they had went directly to my heart."_

_My eyes wide open and my mouth agape._

_She just laughs at me and I cross my arms while pouting. Yes,_ _Santana seems to bring out this side on me every single time_._ It seems like she knows what I want and she's just having fun not giving it to me._

_Then, she puts her hand on my neck and pulls me until her lips met my forehead. It seems to linger there longer than she used to._

_I'm still stunned to process she just did that so I think my face is comical right now because she's still smiling at me._

_I would've preferred if she just kiss me right in my lips. But when she does that instead... it has a different effect on me. Maybe she gives me what i need. A reminder that we can never be more than friends. Just how Frannie used to say, "God gives you what you need, not what you want. So don't waste your wish on material things, good health, or booming career. 'Cause let's be honest here. That's not _what you need to be happy._"_

_But I think, it's not what I need anymore._

_I need more than that. I bit my lip as I contemplate on what to do next. If she'll never love me back, at least I get to feel her lips on mine._

_I was about to move when she stops me with her words. She always seems to know what I'm thinking even before I move, that, or I'm not as subtle as I thought I am. "Quinn, I know I've hurt you last time."_

_Her face changes and it tugs something in my heart. She's about to say something I wouldn't like and she hates herself for it._

_"And I will continue to hurt you if you do what you'll about to do. So _please_ don't. 'Cause we both know it's wrong. It's _all_ kinds of wrong. And I'll hurt you even more until you hate me. I wouldn't blame you if you do... I wish you would. Because then it'll be easier for you to forget what you want."_

_"I can't hate you. I can't even if I try. And really, Santana? None of this easy for me! Especially when you say things and do things that makes me want to_ kiss _you!_"_ I try to hold her gaze, I really did. But all I want to do is curl in my bed and cry myself to sleep until the morning comes, so I could force myself to think that this is all just a dream. Tragic but beautiful nonetheless._

_"I know." She stands up, that means she's about to leave me. She turns towards the fireplace and I brace myself for her goodbye. Before she leaps though, she looks back at me, saying those words softly. "__Because surprisingly, none of this is easy for me too."_

_And now. I don't know if I'm better off without those words._

_Hope _does _breeds eternal misery._

* * *

><p>"It would've been nice to get to know you." She pulls her hand back and I miss the warmth of it. Funny, how I <em>also <em>miss how cold her hand used to be. "I guess it's better if I don't show up again."

Her words stung me harder than I expected it to be.

It hurts to see her after all this time. After years of putting myself back together. After _finally _being happy, and falling in love to someone that isn't her.

But deep down I know. I know it just would've hurt more if she's _human, _and I'll never get to see her again.

I wanted to move, this time though, my body isn't cooperating. I wanted to protest, but this part of me, this part of me who _just _wanted to stop the pain, wants me to stay put and let her walk away, to just be done with her for good, prevents me from doing so. Clearly, I'm signing up for more heartbreak if I call her out.

"Oh! Your cookies!" Rachel reminds her when she pushed her chair and stands, ready to leave.

_All these time, I've been baking them all for you. At least I used to._

She looks back at the bag that Rachel bought and then offers us a sad smile then shakes her head. "If I had one of those again, I'd probably be coming back for more."

This Santana doesn't seem to know the weight of those words to me. Previous Santana would've kept those words to herself so i wouldn't know, previous Santana would've kept me in the dark on what she truly feels.

She looks back at me again, studying me carefully, cautious and curious. She bowed a little almost apologetic, not sure what exactly she did. Then slowly turns away from us and starts heading towards the door without carrying the bag of cookies.

Should I feel bad about that?

Rachel puts her hand on mine and looks at me worried. "Quinn, I know this is a lot to process. And it probably hurt _so much _you just want to die right now. But I'm more focused to the fact that Santana is _real-"_

"She's not _my Santana. _She doesn't remember me."

"_Exactly! _So what on Earth have you done?!"

I look at her in disbelief. What is with her tone? She's been acting differently ever since she met Santana. It's like Santana had easily charmed her way through her and had won her over.

"I wouldn't blame you if you just had to lash out on her, but I expected you to apologize in the end, and at least _verify _if she's _your _Santana." She lets me absorb her words then goes on with her lecture. "Yeah, obviously, she's not Santa, because it's _June. _But the possibility of her trading her memories to be human isn't much of a shock considering all your stories are true. I mean." She lets out a chuckle. I guess she's overwhelmed too. Who wouldn't? "I believed you only for the sake of my _faith _in you. But to have actually met Santana? That's just mind-blowing." she moves her hand wildly, and I find it amusing how she's so animated right now. "Like reading a fictional character for so long you've wanted to believe he/she is real. Then... movie comes out, and your fantasies become clearer. It's like finally putting a face in the name you know?"

I choose to ignore her current positive response to meeting Santana. (If this has happened when Santana and I were still together, I would've been overjoyed) "Please, don't do this." I look back at Rachel pleadingly. "She had warned me before, okay? When she came back after running away from me?" I wait for her to nod in understanding as she remembers my story. "She doesn't want to give me _hope, _but guess what? I'm such a masochist I just went for it anyway. And you know what I _hate about her?_"_  
><em>

She waits for me to continue because I _need _this. Maybe I should've let it all out when Santana was here. But talking to Rachel seems to be a better option because she knows what I'm talking about.

"Is that every time, she turns me down. _She just had to give me this... _this _sign. _That I have to chase after her. If I didn't know any better, I think she's enjoying it."

Rachel rolls her eyes frowning at me. "Yeah, sure. It was so obvious earlier. When she told you, you would _never _see her again because "she's causing you too much pain." She even left the cookies Quinn!" She grabs the bad and shake it in front of me I had to pull my face away. "This is like a vital part in your love story! The glass shoe in Cinderella, the dagger in Little Mermaid, the One Ring in Lord of the Rings, the Deathly Hallows in Harry Potter-"

"Okay, stop! One, I get your point! Two, Lord of Rings, and Harry Potter? I don't think that's your genre, Rachel. Who would've thought?"

"Yeah, wiped that smirk off your face. I was aiming for references _you _would relate to. We both know you're a closeted nerd." I gasp at her accusation! I am not! Before I can stand in my defense though, "My _point _is. What happened awhile back? Looks like a Classic Santana to me." She puts down the cookie and cross her arms raising her eyebrow. I can't believe we're actually doing this. If I didn't know any better, I'd think Santana _was _Rachel's girlfriend and not mine.

She speaks again. It appears that she isn't finished yet. "Also, _if s_he really doesn't remember you, don't you think you came too strong onto her? I mean, imagine yourself in her shoes. If you were to go to North Pole or wherever she stays, your memories of her blank, and she just comes to you and _drop _all these bombs and just _expects you _to catch up to her, _then _resents you for not remembering, what would you feel?"

What would I feel?

Yeah sure, I'll react the same way she did because I had to admit, that must have been creepy.

"As a matter of fact, I remember having that kind of character in my acting class! Though it wasn't in North Pole, my character had amnesia and my supposed to be husband is-" I leave Rachel to her inevitable 'making the conversation about her' mode as I weigh in some facts.

_Sure, I might have been unfair to Santana._

_But how about what _I _felt?_

_When _she just selfishly took my _everything from_ me without asking what I think. When she had rubbed in my face that _I _don't get a say in our relationship? When she left me broken to pieces?

_When _she shows up again giving me _hope _and all these feelings and memories of us, _after _I had put myself back together, and had found someone _I was willing _to spend the rest of my life with and to actually have kids and grandkids with, _after _everything I've been through to get over her.

_When _she crushed _that _hope with those _four _words.

Yeah, how about we talk about that instead?

And while we're on that page, let's re-evaluate our friendship too.

"Yeah, Rachel? I really don't care!" I glare at her and ignore the hurt that came across her face (she doesn't get to pull that face on me) "How about we talk about how unfair this situation is to _me. _'Cause I don't know Rachel, _maybe _I was the one who was left behind? _Maybe _I was the one who was told to move on and _find someone _else, someone whom I _deserve? _Which..." I laugh bitterly because really, Santana? "_is _hypocritical, because from where I stand, that was _her _saying, she deserves someone who can give her kids who would soon be roaming the world delivering gifts on Christmas!"

"I understand that you're hurting-"

I look at her incredulously, "You" I put more weight on each word as it comes out of my mouth. "don't get to say you understand my pain just because you see me hurting."

Her lips are in thin line and she leans back to her chair as if I had slapped her with my words.

I think I'm projecting my anger on Santana to Rachel and _that _is unfair.

I know I should apologize, but I think I needed to let that one out.

I watch as Rachel closes her eyes and her fist tightly her nails are probably digging into her palm. "You want to talk about what's unfair? Yeah sure, let's do that." She puts on her show smile and crosses her legs, putting her now intertwined fingers in her lap. "Every time that you got hurt, whether it's by Santana, or your parents, or _yourself, you _turn into a hurricane, a strong one mind you., and keep everything inside, and destroy everyone in your path with this... _compressed _anger that you have. And I, _your bestfriend, _don't have the immunity to the said attack. But have I _ever _complained to you? Not _even _once. Because that's in the job description. So how about we stop talking about what's not fair. Because news flash, honey, this world has _never _been fair."

"We've already established how the world has been against the both of you. But this time, she's here. We don't know how, or why. But what we know for sure? Is that she's not Santa anymore. And I know that's not one of the things you love about her-"

"That's the _only _reason we broke up. That, and the possibility that she never loved me the way that I loved her."

Rachel looks at me pointedly and her gaze hardened. That must be her saying she does not want to be interrupted when she's having a monologue. "You, on the other hand, have _changed. You _are not the same person you were 5 years ago. _Because _one, you're engaged-"

Engaged.

Clarisse.

Another player to the game.

_Another _important person in my life.

Guilt starts showing its ugly head and I feel worse than before.

How can I worry about Santana when I should be centering all my attention back at her and on _our _wedding?

"I'm just saying. I know for sure you'll always have this doubt. This _What If. _I love Clary. I do. And if you ask me, I would've been happy if you just go on with your life and never look back. But would you? Would you be happy? I hate to see you get hurt, Quinn. But if Finn didn't happen to die. That he's somewhere out there, his memories unclear, and he's somehow _finding his way back to me? _I wouldn't push him away."_  
><em>

* * *

><p>A week passed and to my relief (or disappointment, I'm not really sure), Santana has not yet returned to the Cafe.<p>

Last time, I know she would _always _be there on Christmas Eve to deliver our presents, but this time, I don't know when or _if _she'll be back.

It was like the old times where women wait by the shore to look at that tiny ship in the horizon to carry their lovers back to them.

As I busy myself with work, and wedding planning, it would appear that my employees had blamed me for Santana's absence.

_"Do you think Santana and the boss know each other? They had a fight last week and Santana never came back after she left. Larry said she was upset when she left. And she _never _left upset after eating those cookies."_

_"Miss Quinn was crying! It was probably Santana's fault."_

_"Looked like a lovers' quarrel to me."_

_"Miss Quinn is engaged!"_

_"Stop it you two! Santana _doesn't _know Quinn, okay? She had never asked about her even once. She comes here for the cookies, maybe stay for some small chat, then leaves. That's it. It's probably a misunderstanding."_

_..._

_"Whatever. You do know we hate you because you're sort of friends with her, right?"_

It turns out that Emily had been closer to Santana than the other employees for she takes the afternoon shift where Santana usually comes by.

According to her, Santana first came _four _months ago. She said she had just moved to New York with her friend to open up a dance studio. She was just browsing through the pastries and cakes when her eyes landed on the cookies. Emily, doing her job had encouraged Santana to buy the cookies(though according to her, even when Santana was reluctant at first, she looked entranced by the pattern of the cookies so there's really not much of the convincing), and she did. After that, Santana became a regular. She will come by at around 5pm almost everyday to pick up _nine _cookies, sometimes more, stay up for a little chat then leaves. (Almost the same as her interactions with me except those times were longer)

Until two months ago...

_Emily greeted Santana with a bright smile, which Santana timidly returned. With that Emily sensed something was off._

_It was almost routinary, only Santana was _just _looking at the cookies. Emily had just interpreted that as Santana contemplating the numbers of cookies she'd order, so Emily had continued with the small chat. Sometimes it's about the kids Santana teach at the studio, or Emily's friends, or Brittany. When it was near clear Santana wouldn't order, Emily politely asked, "Would you like me to wrap up your usual?"_

_"No, please don't."_

_Emily looked at her confused and waited for her explanation. "Look... just... Brittany and I have this... project we're working on. It's our first _big _client in New York. One of our students is related to this casting crew and they're filming a movie and they need choreographer. Brittany had to come up with- You know what, nevermind. You probably won't understand. My point is... I'm saving this cookies for when I come back after _two _months. It's like something I look forward to after my hardwork."__  
><em>

_"So you're saying... You'll wait_ two _months?"_

_"Hey! That's a _really _long time for me, okay? Drop the judgy eyes!"_

_"And you're_ _big... reward to yourself is these cookies?" Emily pointed at the cookies by the counter and looked back at Santana, amused at the girl's logic._

_Santana nods as if she sees nothing wrong with it._

_"Why not up the 'bounty' to something bigger? Like a cake, maybe? Or a buffet? You looked someone who needs an all-you-can-eat" Emily teased roaming her eyes on Santana. _I don't know if I should look more into that but I decide to overlook it.

_Santana looked offended and narrowed her eyes on Emily. "I don't know what you're implying but I'll have you know, I eat three meals a day!" Santana huffs and looks back at the cookies as if it in some way had fascinated her. "There's just something in there, I can not explain. The secret ingredient, maybe? But I just... it leaves me _coming back _for more, do you get that a lot?" She looks back at Emily "Or it's all just in my head?"__  
><em>

_"Sounds like you've fallen for the cookies." Emily teased. _And in such way, I feel like changing Emily's shift. I _was _that person. I _teased _Santana for her obsession.

_"Maybe I have..."_

"Babe?" Suddenly, arms wrapped around my waist and I feel Clary's lips on my shoulder.

Clary's hugs give me this _secured _feeling. Unlike with Santana where I always have this _worry _that she'll disappear any moment.

I smile then twist my body so that I'm facing her. I shortly put my arms around her neck and give her a kiss on her lips.

"Were you just thinking of me?"

_Ouch._

I decide to _lie _to her and proceed to drown her words with my kiss.

When she pulls back though, her eyes shows a glint of amazement and she beams at me. "Yeah, I'll take as a no."

I look at her puzzled and she lets out a chuckle. "You _distracted _me with your kisses!"

"_Distracted _you? Can't I just kiss my fiance because I want to?"

"Of course you can, why do you think I put a ring on your finger?" She releases me from her hug and grabs my hands and kissed both. "I _just _know, okay? Anyway, you were probably thinking about our wedding."

I swallow the lump in my throat hoping the guilt will come with it. Good thing she turns around because I'm not sure how she finds out when I'm lying to her.

She puts her phone back to her pocket then smile lovingly at me again. "I don't want you to be stressed out okay? Rachel is your Maid of Honor so that means she bears half the pressure. Speaking of which, Rachel just mailed me some _samples? _And she wanted me to choose from three colors which according to her you had narrowed down from ten so thank you very much, but babe, they all look the same to me."

She pouts and that brings out a smile on my face again. _Clary _makes me _smile _and _laugh. Santana _makes me _cry _and _doubt myself._

I kiss her pout. "I thought you had dreamt your wedding since you were a little girl?"

I've braced myself to not _marrying _until... forever? So when Clary started hinting marriage, like what I would like to wear on the day, or would I rather have a garden wedding, or if I wanted a big wedding, I started panicking. I _love _Clary. But I haven't seen myself getting married (probably because of Santana). Up till two months ago, it was her parents' 50th Wedding Anniversary, so they renewed their vows and _had another wedding._

_We were just dancing during the reception. Our bodies are close to each other and Clary just whispered in my ears, "Do you think that'll be us?"_

_I looked back at her in confusion, "I know, you don't want to get married. But do you think... 50 years from now, we'd still be together? We'd wake up next to each other, you'd be the last person I see before I go to sleep, and I'll be yours. 50 years from now I just_ know _I'd still want you. But would you? Would you still want me?_"

That wasn't her proposal. But that was when I knew... That was when I started seeing our future together.

It's just that... That vision didn't include Santana in it.

Maybe that's just how it's supposed to go. Because _that was what Santana wanted, right?_

_Then _why _is she here?__  
><em>

There was a knock at the door and we both looked towards it.

"Quinn, I just wanted to confirm, did Mrs. Winston cancelled her order?"

"Yes, why?"

"Cookies are all sold out but we got a customer asking, so I'm thinking of giving Mrs. Winston's to her."

_her?_

I take a glance at the clock.

5:24.

Could it be?

I look back to Clary and she just nods at me, always understanding.

I follow Tina out of my office to see who the customer is.

_Please be her._

I can't believe I'm _anticipating _seeing her again.

I don't even know what I'm gonna say, or what I'm gonna do when that happens.

Tina had already given the Go signal because I saw Emily re-packing the cookies.

"Thank you for waiting, ma'am." She said as she hands the bag to the customer.

When I reach the counter though, instead of seeing Santana's black wavy hair, I saw blonde hair tied up in a high ponytail.

"No, thank _you! _Santana is already having a withdrawal syndrome. She's grumpy, and if I don't give her these, I'm afraid she'd start snapping at the kids."

_Brittany._

* * *

><p><strong>IS THIS MORE THAN YOU BARGAIN FOR YET?<strong>

**For all of you who seems to be wondering what Santana does when it's not Christmas... i just want to say that's a VERY GOOD question. mind-fcking, even. I've been wondering the same thing too. Too bad, Santana doesn't remember her past-life, so I guess we all have to wait.**

**But honestly speaking, it's NOT gonna be angst with a side-plotline. (haha) There will be happy times and (I hope) funny times especially on Quinn's interactions with Santana and/or Clarisse. I mean, Quinn is originally the _happy _character so..._  
><em>**

**Also, every small detail is put there for a reason. It probably has a connection in LC or in the first chapter, so i'll try to connect the dots as we go on.**

**Favorite part? Most hated part?**


	3. Chapter 3

**Jammy: **Dude, you needs to get an account! I wanted to talk to you about what you think but... this... how... just... haha. Yes, Quinn wasn't ready to face Santana that time, and I don't know if this is a logical way to deal with it, (I don't think so, but Rachel does!)

**Guests: **Clary is the third party, so I think it doesn't matter if she's bitchy or nice, she'll always get the hate. Haha. We'll find out more about Brittany as we go on. Rachel? She's the captain of this ship!

**Ben: **I don't think I won't be forgiven yet for this chapter, but I've put something in there and I hope you see it.

**_ (I had a bad feeling about this, seriously, it sucks so bad I'm crying, so please lower your expectations on this one.)_**

* * *

><p><em>Brittany<em>

You heard about the saying, Third time's the charm?

Well i wouldn't really call it a charm...

**ONE.**

I watch her reach for her bag and give the payment to Emily. She's cheerful, always with a smile on her face.

"Is Santana coming back?" Emily asks as she punched the amount through the cashier and count the coins for Brittany's change.

Brittany shakes her head, still with a bright smile, though I'm not sure if it got bigger. "I don't think so. But I'll tell her you've asked for her! Maybe you could drop by the studio some time."

"With school and work, I don't think I have time, but I really missed her-!" Tina taps my shoulder and asked me something I didn't give much attention to because i was busy following Brittany's movement with my eyes.

Brittany's moving away from the counter, and I think my feet is following her steps, completely ignoring Tina now. I move sideways until I get out of the counter and quickly, I try to catch up to her.

I was a few steps away from her when I got pulled back. Suddenly, I see Clary's face blocking Brittany who is now walking out of the door.

"Babe, my mom just called about this weekend and I was thinking-" Brittany is slowly disappearing from my sight, and so is my hope seeing _her _again.

"Quinn?"

Reluctantly, I looked back at Clary, and forced out a smile. "We can do whatever you want, babe."

Clary's excitement must have ignored the change in my mood because she didn't question me and just gave me a quick kiss, then she started texting her mom.

* * *

><p><strong>Two.<strong>

Have you been drunk?

Like _really really _drunk?

You drink for two reasons: You want to forget something... and you wanted to celebrate.

This time, I think I'm going for both.

I wanted to forget Santana. I really do. And while I'm at that, I'm thinking of pushing Brittany with her too. It's been 1 month and 8 days since I've seen Santana and there was no sign of her ever since. Brittany? Yeah, no such luck with that too. I don't know if Brittany recognized me that day, or Santana had gone passed her obsession with my cookies and moved on to some other pastries.

I've asked Emily if Brittany had gone by recently, and though she looked confused as to why I know her, she just told me that the blonde hasn't returned either.

So in conclusion, I've taken that as a sign that I've thrown away my chance with Santana to rest of eternity... Well, the chance to talk... and okay, _maybe _I don't have to justify myself to myself?

Ugh.

This has to be me being drunk.

I simply _cannot _go back to talking to myself again.

Rachel is celebrating her first nomination. Though she's not going for something like Best Leading Actress, its her first nomination in an on-screen awards. We're saving the big celebration _when _she actually wins the award (her words, not mine), so right now, we're just in a small pub by the 23rd, having fun.

We were laughing at something when Clary starts asking if we want refills. I told her I'll get us our drinks this time.

Ever since the engagement, Clary has been treating me like a Queen. Not that I'm complaining because I had to admit, I feel special and my heart flutters. But I just want to do something for her in return to show that I _deserve _her, and that this isn't one-sided. (Though getting her a drink doesn't say much about 'deserving her', I think I'm getting there)

Rachel comes along with me, which is a sign that she's about to say something private.

We were waiting by the bar for the bartender to tend to us.

"When was the last time we went out for a drink?" I lean half my weight to the bar, I think I'm buzzed.

Rachel just laughs at me, "I know, right? Just because I'm married... and you're getting there doesn't mean we have to stop doing this!" She paused, but she's still my gaze when she shifts the subject. "So... I haven't heard anything about Santana."

It appears that Rachel has never failed to remind me of Santana everyday.

"That's because I haven't either." I told her. The bartender comes and I gave her our orders.

I look back at Rachel and her expression softened, "are you okay?"

I roll my eyes at her, "I'm fine." Rachel didn't look convinced, "Look, maybe that's just how it is. We're not really meant to be together. If I've met her again before Clary, then maybe it'll be different."

Rachel leans in and to give me a hug.

She pats my bag then she whispers, "or maybe not."

She pulled away with a big smile on her face.

"What?"

She looked over my shoulder. I followed her gaze, and there I saw Santana and Brittany talking to two guys with a bottle on their hands.

When Santana and I met again, I wasn't ready. It was like what Rachel said. You can fantasize about something for a long time. Think of its every detail, but when it happens, none of the events go according to plan. Feelings complicate everything. And I have those feelings inside me. I was ecstatic, surprised, confused, angry, hurt, and everything else in between. And imagine feeling that all at the same time. It just... shuts you down.

So I had a time to myself to _think_ and _process _everything. And I guess, I would really like it if I could get something from her.

Get a sign if my Santana is still in there.

Or this Santana is a complete stranger.

I go back to reality and I watch as Brittany whispers something in Santana's ears. Santana looked unsure and she seems to look at Brittany for help. Brittany squeezed her arm and she and the other guy leaves the pair alone.

_Is Brittany setting Santana up?_

My eye twitched. It sure looked like it.

I cannot believe that just happened.

Before I could go there myself and see what the situation is, Rachel had walked passed me and I think she's going to Santana's direction.

I was about to follow her when I felt arms in my waist.

"Where did Rachel go?"

On a normal occasion, I would turn around and face Clary, but I am also curious to where Rachel would go so I just put my hand over hers. I didn't answer and I guess we were both watching Rachel _talking _to Santana.

Santana was surprised to see her. I don't know how Rachel does it, given the situation we were last in, but she made it looked like they were friends for a long time.

They were seem to be in a conversation that somehow didn't include the guy Brittany left Santana to deal with and that had most likely pissed him off.

I expected Rachel to at least point in our direction maybe mentioning that she is with me, but to my surprise, they didn't even look in our direction.

Clary pulled me and told me the drinks are there and I've decided to talk to Rachel later.

A few minutes (more line an hour) after, Rachel hasn't returned yet. I simply told her _husband _that she met one of her fans and that we all know how Rachel gets when she meets her fans. _And we don't want to go there._

After drinking more, I feel the need to go to the bathroom, so I excused myself and head towards the nearest comfort room.

When I open the door though, I saw Brittany fixing her make up in the mirror.

Instead of ambushing her and engulfing her with a bear hug like I did with Santana, I've decided to (forget my exploding bladder and) change my strategies. I stand by her in the next faucet and looked like I was fixing... my hair, since I forgot to bring my bag, and I think it's pushing it too far if I borrow things from Brittany (though that would be a good icebreaker).

Our eyes met in the mirror and we both share a smile, like strangers would to be polite.

She looks _exactly _the same as she was when I was thirteen. "Hi, I can't help but notice, but I think I've seen you somewhere."

She smiles at me and studies me carefully. "I think I would've remembered you if we have met."

I would say that Santana has the _greatest _self-control the world has seen, and _I _had cracked it. So I think I would've been able to crack Brittany too. "No, really. I've seen you somewhere. Where were you last Christmas?"

She looks confused, but still with a smile on her face she answers, "I... was in Philly with my parents?"

I tap my chin then looks anywhere but her, "So not in _Ohio _then. We must have met in New York! Do you like pastries?"

Yeah, I've thrown all the subtlety out the window when I figured out it wasn't getting me anywhere.

She was silent, probably thinking how to deal with me. "Sweet Haven? Sounds familiar?"

Now her lips are in thin line. Then I smile brightly, well I hope it looks bright and not smug. "Yes! Sweet Haven! You came in... last month! Right?

I take a step forward not letting her answer. I might as well ask her directly, "Emily says you're a regular... Well, at least... Your friend was. I really wanted to talk to her-"_  
><em>

"Why? So she could feel your wrath again?" She finally snaps back. I think I have woken the lion. She narrows her eyes at me and takes a step forward too. "You _must _be Quinn. I _don't _remember you, but I _remember _Santana coming back home _upset_. She told me everything."

I bet she did.

"I wanted to apologize-"

"Yeah, well save it to someone who cares." She scoffs and starts heading towards the door.

"I think Santana cares."

Her door hand was on the handle but she stops. She turns around slowly and her gaze hardened. "Oh she does. Because that's what Santana is. She can see if someone is of purest heart, then she lets herself to care about _them, _but _not enough _to get attached. So _don't take it personally_. Besides, _you've _got the _wrong _person, didn't you?" her smile would rival the sweetness of my Pate Sucree. And that's saying something... Something like how _menacing _it is?

I would know. I've mastered that art of smiling.

The first thing my mom taught me wasn't walking... it's smiling.

My sister taught me the _different _meanings behind a smile because it is essential in ruling high school.

Rachel taught me the _hierarchy _of smiles, which sometimes didn't even make sense but I studied it for extra credit.

So yes, I know what that smile _means._

_More shots to drink then._

* * *

><p><strong>First<strong>

Rachel and I are in my car parked few meters away from Santana's dance studio.

"Rachel, I think this is a bad idea."

"this is _my _idea! Of course it's great!"

"All of your ideas are... overrated?"

She looks at me indignantly, "No, _you're_ ideas are _horrible! _My ideas are precise, and well-thought, and-"

"Try imaginative! I mean why do we even have binoculars?" I held out the _binoculars _she pulled out in her bag.

She called me awhile ago and told me that she and Thomas had a big fight. So being the compassionate friend I am, I picked her up from her apartment, saw her wearing a robe and her _fluffy _pink slippers, with a duffel bag (which I didn't even think she owns) with her hand, crying at the front steps of her apartment.

I was comforting her, but she told me to just drive around the city but she was somehow protesting every time I was about to turn, and now when I think of it, she was planning on leading us here.

She told me to park at the side and I did. And then she just throws her duffel bag at the back seat and leaped to it.

"_Rachel, what are you doing?"_

_She removes her robe, and underneath it is a... black **leather **__jacket with a matching tight skirt. I looked in disbelief at her, "What the _hell _are you wearing?"_

_"I bought a killer boots to match this! Ooh, it's gonna look great!"_

_"What. is. happening?"_

So she told me how that was just a ploy for me to stop whatever I deem important doing at the moment to go meet her so she and I can go and track Santana down.

A few days back, I told Rachel about my last-week-encounter with Brittany, and she told me about her encounter with Santana.

Rachel introduced herself again to Santana (for Santana did not recognize her right away), and even though Santana recalled the last time she had met Rachel, her gratitude towards her for saving her from the awkward situation she was in weighed more than the _awkwardness _we had the last time, so she went along with Rachel and started having a conversation which I know is Rachel's expertise.

It turns out that after my scene with Brittany, she came straight to where Santana is and found Rachel still with her.

Rachel recognized her as one of their choreographers in their show. Rachel, being the _personality _that she is, had quickly shifted the topic towards her. She immediately greeted Brittany and told her how thankful she is for all the dance moves she had learned that she had (obviously) pulled really well during rehearsals. (I think Rachel's over-confidence has some pros sometimes)

The next time they saw each other, Rachel has _secretly _followed Brittany home.

And now... we're here.

"-have to _be our characters _to fully play our role to the best of our capabilities. Quinn, you have to _embody_ it. _Feel _it-"

"Where did you _even _get _these?_"

"Quinn! Just... just... okay?"

I raised my eyebrows at her to see if she's serious. And she actually is.

I slumped my shoulders down. "You do know this is borderline stalking, right?"

She puts on the binoculars again which I find ridiculous but I don't tell her to put it down 'cause I had to talk a picture.

When she noticed I snapped a picture she quickly swatted my phone away. Good thing, I already had a good shot. "You know, I expected some 'thank you' on the way!"

I let out a soft laugh and looked back at her photo.

"Do you want to talk to Santana or not?"

I put down my phone and face her.

Do I?

I don't know what I would say.

But I think I would really like that.

"So... Is part of this flawless plan of yours, just waiting here or are we actually going in?"

"Oh no. _You _are going in, and I'm waiting here." I narrow my eyes at her with a scowl. "You have to have a lookout!"

"I _can't _go there alone!"

"Of course you can! You've been handling Santana alone half of your life!" she says as a matter-of-fact. I was about to tell her that was a completely different times when she added, "You _need _to do this alone. Deep down you know you do."

I _want _to talk to her.

To really know if _she's my Santana._

And I don't know if that will change anything.

But that would _mean _something.

"Brittany is out there for blood. You've hurt her friend and she's being protective. I'll call you if I see her near the vicinity."

Speaking of... "Yeah. Good for Santana to have a friend like Brittany don't you think? She's _protective _of her. She doesn't let people come and hurt her bestfriend. It would've been so great to-"

"Yeah, yeah. Shut it. I know the Lucy in you is squealing inside because she's about to meet her first love again so stop wasting our precious time and go!"

I think now that I regret being _poetic _back in the days when I was whining to Rachel about my sentimental love for Santana.

When I didn't move, she glared harder, "Go!"

I groaned, "What am I supposed to-"

"Go!" she unlocked the doors.

"I'll just mess this-"

"Go!" she opens my side of the door.

"Rach-"

"GO!"

She added a shove on that one so I had no choice but to get out of the car.

As I walk towards the building, I feel my heart pumping so fast it's probably producing too much oxygen in my brain.

I'm not gonna tackle her and tell her I'm glad she's back. I'm not gonna cry and tell her how I've missed her. I'm not gonna yell at her for things I've been keeping inside me. _I'm not gonna push her away._

All those _feelings _will be lost on deaf ears.

She doesn't know me, and I get that.

When life gives you lemons, make a lemonade.

I take a deep breath before I open the door.

Through the glass pane, I saw Santana talking to a little girl who was still in her tutu skirt. They were smiling to each other until a man interrupted their time together. And from afar I feel like I'm not supposed to see it. Because they looked exactly what a _happy _family looks like. Given the girl doesn't look like Santana, it was obvious the girl was comfortable with Santana.

I think they just bid their goodbye's because the little girl kissed Santana in the cheek that made Santana _blushed._

I'm so jealousy right now, even though I know I'm not supposed to.

The little girl reached for her (I would think) father (which looks as old as Frannie)'s hand and they head towards where I am. So I straighten myself out and starts heading towards the studio.

I met the guy's _gray _eyes as we walk pass each other. _That's rare._

And suddenly, something felt off.

I shake it off for now 'cause I probably won't be seeing him next time and focus on my mission at hand.

Did I just say _mission? _What is wrong with me? Rachel's role-playing has probably rubbed off on me.

I was by the door frame and I saw Santana stretching. She looks tired, and I've never seen her so tired before.

I was too busy studying this new Santana that I didn't notice she had already looked up to the mirrors on the wall and she had seen me.

"What are you doing here?" She stands up quickly and turns her body towards me. It's so weird seeing her with _that _clothes on.

Focus.

"I wanted to talk."

She tilt her head on the side, but still stayed silent.

"Okay, scratch that. I don't... I don't really know what to say." I shifted uncomfortably in my place, my hand softly rubbing the back of my neck.

This is embarassing. Who comes to confront someone without any speech in mind?

This is all Rachel's fault.

I think after this, I will never have the _face _show Santana.

To my surprise though, Santana just lets out a soft laugh.

And guess what, I've missed that too.

"Okay, how about you start with _how _you reached this place." She folds her arms in front of her and there's a hint of smile in her face.

Suddenly, I feel _comfortable._

"It's Rachel's fault..."

Silence.

"That's it?

I contemplate in telling her what happened. It feels the _normal _thing to do. I tell the old Santana _everything. _Even the things she probably doesn't care about. And I guess what I loved about her is that she just _listens_ not for the the sake of listening, but because _she cares. _She doesn't judge, or comment how she thinks I should've handled the situation. She just _laughs _when it's funny, _smile _when it's adorable, _pulls me closer _when it's sad, _kiss me in my temple _when it's maddening.

"You really wanna know?" She nods and pats the seat next to her.

That is _new_.

I think the _Lucy in me _as Rachel would put it, has taken over my senses and starts controlling my legs and I walk towards her.

I sit next to her but I still put a distance between us just like the Santana would, and then I would've sit closer to her until there's a _little _amount of space between us. How the tides have changed.

"Rachel called me an hour ago. She was crying, _really _crying, and she tells me how she and her husband, Thomas, were one step away to divorce. I asked her what happened, and Rachel being Rachel just had to explain by detail how heartbroken she feels. She starts using all these references... these scenes from different movies and musicals she had watched, and then I got lost but I don't say her anything because she wouldn't let me-" _then I _absolutely _got lost _why I was here in the first place.

'Cause this is what Santana makes me feel.

_She feels like home._

That's why even if I had to give up everything for her... just so I could wait for her in that _one day _I can have her, it would be _worth it._

And years after when I get old (and she still looks the same), she would just be there, by the couch, or the bed, or the kitchen counter (the last part is more realistic, and I can see her hand in the cookie jar as we both stare at the fireplace, the Christmas tree, or outside by the window where it snows, and regardless how I was feeling, she will just _make me feel better._

And I stare at her, watch her smile, her eyes with a glint of amusement and interest, and then the urge of _touching _her and _feeling _her just to make sure she's real and not an illusion plagues my mind.

And before I could move my hand (I can't believe I _would _really touch her), she speaks, "You must really love her for putting up with her all these time."

_Or I still love you that's why I can't stay away._

STOP IT. Look at your ring. That's a physical reminder that you are not supposed to be thinking like that.

I play with with my engagement ring as I force myself to look at it instead of Santana. "She's like a sister to me."

"Better than your _real _sister?"

I look back at her quickly, my eyes widen at her words. "What?"

"You have a... _biological _sister, right?"

"How would you know?"

"Oh, right. She came by your cafe some time in March. I met her and-"

She met you and she didn't _tell me?_

I didn't tell Frannie that Santana was Santa, but I did show her my drawings of her so she would at least have an idea what she looks like. Rachel recognized Santana right away, Frannie would too. She has this weird (but totally amazing) photographic memory that gave her an advantage in reviewing for her Boards. Perhaps she...

_"_Was she nice to you?"

"What?"

"My sister, was she nice to you? Or did she come off as a bitch?"

She was clearly confused by my sudden change of mood but still she answered, "She was intimidating me." _Always blunt. "_She asked if I was there to see the owner, and I told her no, and that I was only there to buy cookies. She didn't seem to believe me, so she started introducing herself. 'told me she's the sister of the owner and has a _fascinating _winning record in court trials that had put at least 17 men in jail."

Oh my God.

Did my sister just... Did she just pull the 'you-hurt-my-little-sister-and-i-kick-you-ass' threat?

"I'm so sorry... My sister can get a little intimidating sometimes-"

_Frannie should have at least given me a heads up._

I was trying preserve my dignity, I didn't know I have nothing to preserve.

"This person that I remind you of... is she your ex?" She was just looking at me, still waiting for the answer to her question.

Well, that's why I'm here. "Yes."

"She's also Santana?"

"Yes"

"And I look like her?"

"Yes"

She's looking at me, curiosity etched in her eyes. I don't know if it's safe to talk about this with _her. _With all the feelings and memories that will resurface, I don't know if I'll be able to handle it.

"_Why _are you here, Quinn?"

Word vomit. "I _can't _lose you" again. Not this time. Not in this world.

"I can not have that effect on you, Quinn. It's just not possible." Her eyes pleading back at me.

There's only one way to deal with this.

"You're one of my regular customers. And you just _stopped _coming by my shop because of that _one _mistake I did."

_Address the customer properly but professionally. State the incidence that caused the inconvenience._

"So I am here, to apologize, also in behalf of my sister, for coming too strong on you."

_Apologize personally. Take blame for what your subordinate did,_

"I assure you it will not happen again."

_Give the customer a reassurance that no such thing will happen again._

"If Rachel told me we would be here, I would've brought _cookies."_

_Declare the offered compensation._

Bringing up the cookies didn't have the same effect it used to have on her and that made my heart hurt a little. Has she _forgotten _about that too?

"Do you do this to all your customers?"

"No, not really. I don't usually go and yell at my customers. Most of the time, I am friendly and approachable so I don't scare them away. It's bad for the business." I find my way back into teasing her.

Few years back, it was Santana who was subtle (not really) about changing the subject, but this time, she holds on to that topic.

"Would you tell me _how _I remind you of your Santana?"

_In every way possible._

"I can try stop doing it so it would be less painful for you."

_then you would have to stop being yourself._

I smile at her, sincere this time and not pained, "I was in shock last time. I didn't think I would ever see her again. And then, you just came, along with the memories and feelings that I buried at the back of my mind. This time though, I'll be able to handle it... and I think... that it would really be _great _to get to know you."

She looks unsure, and I just want to reach for her and convince her to do this with me.

But I stop myself.

Clearly, doing this the way I would do it with the old Santana is pushing this Santana away.

I have to keep in mind that this Santana is meeting me for the first time.

And more importantly, I am doing this because I want her in my life as a _friend. _I'm marrying Clary. And I'm in love with her.

"I'm Santana." Santana says, a little unsure.

I look at her surprised. And then I realize this was her letting me get to know her.

I'm Lucy.

"I'm Quinn."

I know I'm playing with fire here... but I take the chance anyway.

"Did you like the cookies?"

She huffs... _she huffs. _And I expected her to try but _miserably _fail to downplay how much she liked it.

Stop it brain. Stop comparing.

She rolls her eyes at me, this time turning her body towards me, "I think we've already established how _enchanted _I am with your cookies."

I feel warmth slowly creeping up to my cheeks and I can't help but smile bigger at this.

I guess I wouldn't mind this Santana at all.

* * *

><p><strong>Second<strong>

The next day, Santana comes by the Cafe at around 5pm.

Emily greeted her and gave her usual. But I was sitting at the table where we sat last month and I was watching their conversation. Santana had sensed it and had told Emily that she will catch up with her next time. When our eyes met, I smiled at her and motion for her to sit down on the seat across mine.

She took the seat cautiously and placed the bag of cookies at the table.

I wait for her to grab one but she's just staring back at me, and it would look like we're both testing each other who would break first.

47 seconds passed before she looked away. "Staring is rude." She tells me with a scowl and then she leans back to her chair, opening the bag and grabbing one cookie.

We used to stare at each other like this and she would always lose it first.

_"It's your eyes fault. They're really intense! They're hypnotizing." My heart flutters. She noticed my smirk and she quickly adds, "by that, I meant it's... brainwashing me to snap first. And that's cheating."_

_Whatever you say, Santana. Whatever you say._

She _moans _at her first bite, and my eyes widen at the sound of it.

_This is seriously not the time._

She seems to be oblivious to the mess she had caused me, and I am thankful that she somehow forgot that I am sitting right in front of her.

She finished it up and quickly grab for the next one.

I _hate _it when she licks her lips to clean up the crumbs left on it. Why can't she just wipe it off with her finger like normal people would do? And I hate it more when she closes her eyes to savor its taste.

_Nobody should look that sexy _when eating a cookie. That's just not possible.

I'm probably just horny.

Yeah.

That's it.

Clary comes back tonight after a three-day conference in Seattle.

Maybe I'll prepare her something _special _tonight.

Yes. That's it.

I play with my engagement right again and focus my attention on it.

Then I remember something that's been bugging me.

"How many did you order this time?"

Santana looked at me, a little surprise by my random question. "Nine? That's my usual."

_Nine._

"You ordered ten last time."

Realization dawned on her as her eyes lit up at the memory, "Oh. That was on Emily." She points over her shoulder to look at Emily. I follow her gaze and see Emily wave back at her. "I was sort of _fasting _last time and that was my prize. It was her treat and she added one as a bonus."

"Why nine?"

_Could it be?_

She slowly puts the cookie down and she started looking lost.

"I honestly don't know."

_Nine years and Nine Christmas Eves._

So much for not thinking about her that way.

* * *

><p><strong>Three<strong>

Santana and I are sort of friends now.

But I still don't have her number.

I spent the next three days without seeing Santana. I was either spending time with Clary, or busy planning my wedding with Rachel.

So now, it's near lunch and I'm at Santana's studio about to ask her out for lunch.

Friends eat lunch together, right? I just want to do something different with her today. And maybe take a walk at Central Park after our meal and just _talk._

I had no way of telling her I'm dropping by, but I checked their website and found out that her morning classes end at 11. I would like to think that is what normal friends do too and that wasn't me stalking.

"If I wasn't clear last time, that was me telling you to _stay away _from her."

I look towards the source of the voice, and I find Brittany leaning against the doorframe, her arms folded against her chest, her eyes glaring at me.

_Glaring at me._

"Where is Santana?" I hope Santana is far away and would not show up in the wrong time where I say something bad about her bestfriend, cause that would just be the nail in the coffin of our new-found friendship.

"Not here." Obviously.

But I fight back the urge of rolling my eyes because she starts walking towards me now, and I don't know how to handle Brittany.

All of Santana's stories about Brittany is her being all sweet and cheerful and... really, all Christmas in a human form_. _So if you think about it, she's _soft _and _kind. _I don't think Santana had ever seen Brittany like this before.

Frannie told me never to fight someone unprepared. If you don't know anything about this person, which means you don't know the weakness, _retreat._

"What do you want from her?"

Okay, Quinn. You could do this.

She's just being protective over Santana.

Try the _nice _approach.

"I just want to be friends-"

"How about we throw away all lies out the window and just be honest with each other." Brittany is taking this seriously. I see it in her eyes.

Have you had people angry at you?

I had.

My parents when I was younger, though that was more of their disappointment in me.

When I became Quinn, all angry eyes were because of jealousy, and you see it all the time, you get used to it.

Brittany's eyes though are different. They're one of those you get scared for. Because you're used to them being so kind and warm, but now, all you see if fierceness and resentment.

Before Rachel and Finn got together junior year, I slept with Finn.

Puck cheated on me, I was having this _confusing _feelings with Santana, and Finn was there. And he's decent and I know he wouldn't cheat on me and he's a guy, and he was so _concern _about me and I just wanted to _feel _something.

So we did it.

And I didn't even feel better. I just felt worse.

After that, I had to deal with Rachel giving me those eyes for a month.

"Okay. Let's do that then. _Do you remember me, Brittany?"_

I expected Brittany to at least pause, or blink, or just take a moment to think what she would say. But no. She was on a roll. I think she's prepared for this. Not fair.

"Yes. You've been messing with Santana's head all these time."

"And by all these time you meant _what?" _I had to know if Brittany is the same Brittany that I've met when I was twelve.

Santana doesn't remember anything.

And I don't think true love's kiss will make her remember anything. (I wouldn't even dare to try it)

Brittany's _hostility _towards me comes from something deeper than a stranger mistaking her friend of someone and (unofficially) banning them from her friend's favorite cafe.

I know my sister would act like this when she meets Santana. Santana broke her little sister's heart.

And in her own way she did.

"I _know _everything, Quinn. Like I've told you, Santana tells me _everything."_

I got hit by a _truck _when I was 25.

And you know how they tell you everything goes in slow motion?

I've learned in my 4 years of Pre-Med, that when your heart starts beating _so fast _it produced too much oxygen in your brain, it messes with your sense of time. So you _think _that everything goes slow motion. You think you have less time to process your past-life so you believe that the _important _stuff that happened to you _came in _flashes quickly before your eyes.

And I guess that's happening to me for the second time in my life.

Brittany _knows _me.

And Santana tells her about our first encounter and she didn't even explain it to her? Santana stayed away from me and Brittany didn't do anything.

"So you know _what _Santana and I had?"

"Yes." And she says it like it's not a big deal.

Like it doesn't change anything

"This changes everything!" My voice echoed across the room. The hard wood reflecting it back to us.

Now I _am _angry.

"Of course it doesn't have to. You're engaged Quinn." She told me as she grabs my hand and touches my ring.

This time though, I don't look at my ring. I don't shut the thought of Santana, and focus all my attention to Clary.

"Santana _doesn't _remember anything! How... Why...-"

"She's _never _gonna remember anything, Quinn." She cuts my questions and words quickly dissolve in my mouth.

Never?

"So no matter how hard you try to give her hints, to make her eat your cookies, which I would agree, tastes like heaven, she would not remember anything."

"You're lying" I shake my head slowly, tears threatening in my eyes.

"And even if you tell her by detail how all of these things happen, she _will not _remember."

"You could tell her. She would believe you." I plead to her. That probably is not the smartest choice but I'm getting desperate.

We always say we want to know the truth.

But when it's right there in front of us, we _deny _that it exists.

"And _why _would I want you back together?" Her eyes hard, piercing my soul. Her voice laced with a venom you could almost see her reaching to my neck and strangling me.

"Because she traded her memories for _me. _She's human because _of me. _Don't you think you should help her find her way back to me?"

She lets out a humorless laugh and claps her hand. "That's selfish, Quinn. How about I remind you _that _you're engaged! That you belong to someone else now?"

So that's it? She won't help her because I'm engaged?

Is that why she's furious at me? Because I didn't wait for Santana? Because I've moved on?

"I didn't know she did that! Am I supposed to stop living my life and _hope _that she'll change her mind and _come back to me? _She told me to _stop _waiting for her!"

"Exactly! So let. her. go!"

My eyes widen at her words. Let her go?

After all these time...

That is what I'm supposed to do?

"Do you want all her efforts to go to waste?" I asked, my voice shaking.

"That's _exactly _why I will _never _help her remember." Her voice turns ice, so as her eyes burning. "I _don't think_ you're worth **everything **she sacrificed for_. _ That's something I'll _always _hold against you."

* * *

><p><strong>Third<strong>

I avoided meeting Santana for a week. It's not that it was _that _hard because the only way we meet is if I stay by the Cafe at around 5pm where she usually comes or I go to her dance studio and I watch her dance. (and sometimes I do, because I think the only thing I can do now is watch her from afar.) Brittany and I haven't seen each other after our last encounter, and that gives me relief. I keep myself from asking Emily if Santana had asked about me because I don't want to add fuel to the fire. My employees are already gossiping about us, I don't want to give them something more to speculate from.

"_So... you're not insane?"_

_I look at Rachel in disbelief. Really? That's what she got from all of this? Is that I'm not insane?_

_Rachel raised both of her hands in surrender, "I'm just-"_

_"I swear, if after all these time you still hasn't gotten over the fact that Santana is real, I will-"_

_I've told Rachel everything._

_So now I'm here in her apartment, after seeing that state I'm in, she kicked Thomas out (yes, she still does that.) And Thomas quickly understood our dynamic-one of the many things I love about him, went out without a word. She put a blanket over me like I was in an accident and that I'm in shock and gave me a tea to calm my nerves. It's not working._

_"Did she at least tell you the terms of this trade?"_

_What?_

_Rachel narrowed her eyes at me. "You didn't ask?"_

_"Rachel, I was busy processing this new found information. Do you think-"_

_"All mermaid stories trade their tails to find true love. Do you think that's it? Is that you have to fall in love with her again-"_

_"At this point, it's more of her falling in love with me again. And no, I don't think so. If there's one thing I'm sure, is that Brittany cares about Santana. If something bad will happen to Santana if we don't get back together, then Brittany would've been matchmaking us the first chance she gets."_

_"Maybe Santana has to do it herself."_

_"Maybe that's just not the answer."_

_"True love's kiss?"_

_"That's overrated. Even Disney got tired of it."_

_"Maybe it's Brittany's kiss!"_

_I glare at her. Yeah, we're just not going in there._

_then she smiles mischievously "My kiss?"_

_"RACHEL!" __She just laughs. __I reach for a pillow and then smack her in the face. __"Stop crushing on my ex, you're a married woman!"_

If there's one thing I've learned from my dad is that everything always happen for a reason, and all great things come with a price.

I just have no idea how to deal with this. How do you help someone when you don't even understand the situation? _How _exactly did Santana lose her memory of being _Santa _in general? Was there a trial? Or did she just _retire? _Does this mean there won't be Christmas anymore? Or was there someone to replace her? If there is, then who would it be if Brittany is here with her. Also, _why _is Brittany here and how can she _still remembers?__  
><em>

The first time that Santana and I got _together, _I asked her to stay just a little bit longer. I didn't ask her to meet my parents or anyone else, I just asked if she could stay even if it's passed Christmas, and she just shakes her head softly and gives me a chaste kiss on the forehead. _Like that answers anything. _So I've been thinking all these time that she is not _physically _capable of staying in my world longer than necessary. And that seems reasonable. Because Santa is for Christmas, and Christmas alone.

Right at this moment, I've wished nothing more than Brittany to forgive me. She's the only that can help enlighten me, and she wants nothing to do with me. I guess she'd rather _I _forget about me being human and just disappear.

I go to the next aisle and continue to browse on the bookshelf. I'm in a local bookstore downtown and I've been sweeping New York for books that can help me with this. I've read tons of novels about supernatural creatures turning human and they're not much of help. The thing about kid's books is that they focus more about the moral that they are aiming to teach. Romance stories focus on the journey of two people and their _indisputable _love for each other.

How can I put two and two together?

I feel my phone vibrate and I reached for it immediately.

**Dress fitting at 5pm! I love you! xx**

I let out a sigh.

Clary. How can I marry her when I keep having these thoughts about someone else? I keep telling myself that I _was in love _with the old Santana. And even though being Santa is not one of the things I love about her, it still played a big part of who she is. And this Santana is nothing more than a stranger I keep projecting the person I used to know on. I had to admit that I see some similarities. But it might be be all in my head _again_. _I_ interpret all those things. _I _give meaning to all her actions. It doesn't mean they are correct and factual.

I exit the bookstore and starts heading back to the my shop where I left my things. I haven't told Clary about Santana. She knows that I've only had one real relationship before her, but I didn't tell her who she is and she told me she doesn't _need _to know.

_"All of your past is your your future is my privilege."_

I want to be honest with her. I just don't know how I would explain it to her that wouldn't make her worry. Though I'm starting to think that there is really something to worry.

I feel a sense of obligation. That somehow I need to help Santana regain her memories, or help her do what she's supposed to do if there is such. Because I'm the reason she lost everything, and most likely, she'll be losing me too.

When I've reached my cafe, I recognize the little girl who was by the counter looking at the displayed pastries in the glass-pane. This time though, she wasn't with the gray-eyed man she used to be with, but with Santana instead.

I feel ridiculous for thinking of turning around and hiding, or bowing my head and tip-toeing until I reach my office.

I took a deep breath before approaching the pair.

"Santana, hi! I haven't seen you since..."

I don't wanna tell her I've been counting the days that we haven't seen each other so I just let it hang there.

She turns around and smile back at me, and I notice that her hand is clasped with the little girl's. I've decided to focus more on the her smile which meant that Brittany hadn't talked her out of seeing me.

"It's a little early for your usual, don't you think?" I's only 3:28pm.

I guess Santana noticed that I am sneaking glances at Sophia so she introduced us. "Oh, yes! This is Sophia, by the way. Sophia, say hi to Quinn." She told the little girl softly and I feel something unsettling in the pit of my stomach. Like this Santana is so unfamiliar to me. The thought of her having a kid bothers me as an aftermath of our breakup. It's not that I don't see her as good mother, she's probably good with kids. Or at least I assumed she was, she's Santa after all, and Santa are like kids' bestfriend when it's Christmas. I just didn't see her having a kid because I know it wouldn't be _our _kid. Yeah, that's just me being bitter about it.

Sophia greets me with a bright smile, just like how I've seen her the first time with Santana. She must be a happy kid. I try to force my thoughts out of my head and hope for the best that I have returned Sophia's smile.

I look back to Santana and she continues, "She's a student of mine, and I'm keeping her company. Her dad is a surgeon and he got pulled in a surgery so he wasn't able to pick her up." She leads Sophia to our usual spot and I join them. I guess I still have time to spare. We fall back to the normal routine, (I would like to call it a routine now even if we had just talked to each other twice) smoothly.

I study this Santana silently. Along with the similarities I notice comes with the difference of these two Santanas I have in mind. _My _Santana was a mystery. She doesn't use words to let me know what she feels and what she thinks, she just shows me and make it open for interpretations. That's why I don't know for _sure. This _Santana is supposed to be the old Santana minus the Santa package. Then who is _she now?_

* * *

><p><strong><strong>I SERIOUSLY NEED A BETA! Please help me, so I hope someone pm meeeee!<strong>**

**I was planning on holding the truth from Quinn at least one chapter more, but**** I finally have the idea on how I would go with this! (I didn't expect to see it that way, but I think it'll fit as long as I got help in sorting some stuff out) ******

**Favorite part? Most hated part? (I would really appreciate it if you tell me the parts the you didn't like so I know what to work on)**


	4. Chapter 4

**D: '**Just wanted to tell you, you're amazing. and it's weird to find someone who do most of the stuff that I do, in internet (more like fanfiction), of all places. Now for me messing with your feelings: (this is too long for an ask in tumblr so...) I know how your otp is brittana and you still ship quinntana, (or the other way around?) - and even tho I don't know how that's possible- isn't it that there's gonna be a brittana wedding? So what I'm trying to say is, I've read this fic **'A Day Late and a Dollar Short' **long time ago, which torn my heart to pieces, btw, and was like, I know it's never gonna happen, but WHAT IF, brittana happens, britt dies, quinn takes over, finally confesses that she chose Santana _that night_ bec she has feelings for her, and Santana finally sees Quinn in a different light? (I think you should probably read that fic again, (or just the last chapter) and just cry, and leave everything else to your imagination) -A

**(I'm?) Biased Fck:** I was smiling when I was reading what you wrote. I was waiting for that, 'cause I was starting feel like it's all too good to be true, someone had to NOT like this. If I shipped Clarissa and Quinn, then I wouldn't have made a different ending in the first part, instead just put a sequel to 'Last Christmas' with Quinn totally moving on, telling her kid about Santa, then her kid meeting Santana (and possibly liking Santana too) - come to think of it, i was more inclined with that storyline, but that's just heartbreaking for all the quinntana fans so I did this instead.

**Guest: **I love you! And here are virtual cookies for defending this fic's (and possibly my) honor! You totally saw right through Britt spot on! Someone asked me how I will write Brittany's character and that's what was on my mind!

**Jammy: **I hope you put spaces between paragraphs(like there's a line space between them), I get lost when reading your review and I care about what you think! nevertheless, thank you again for you kind words! I've read a lot of Quinntana fics, and I've seen that stuff where it was Quinntana in that start and brittany was on vacation so she was missing out, and then she comes back again so it's like Brittana and Quinn, so Quinn feels left out. I don't think that'll be the case on this one. BUT, you did hit close to home, tho I wouldn't say what! When I was writing that down, i feel like i'm moving too fast 'cause I'm still on Chapter 3, but then I realized, my chapter one is the near _whole _Quinntana background, so I guess that would mean I'm on a steady pace?

**To Guest(?): **I don't do well with cheating because I got cheated on. So it doesn't matter if it's _Quinn _and _Santana, _I just don't like it. So rest assured Quinn won't be cheating with Santana, she may have emotionally but that's just it.

**Ben: **I've got a beta now so I think that part would be solved! We will be seeing more of Sophia and the gray-eyed man! I like to keep Brittany that way, I think there's more to her than you think there is. I love Rachel too. I thought her part was a bit too much but I'm glad you liked it. I'm liking that ** '**_'free-and-single' Quinn can do with this new Santana.' _Mmmm.

* * *

><p><strong>Just wanted to post something before I drown with self-pity. Had a rough week and this is what my stress had produced.<strong>

**THANKS TO MY AWESOME BETA Onceforthefun! And to Fabray-Lopez for the idea of Quinn getting a dog!**

* * *

><p>Santana's class with the new beginners is in the morning. When I first saw her, I thought she would <em>never <em>be a teacher. I don't think she's patient enough. She doesn't sugar-coat her negative observations, and well, she could be very philosophical sometimes (i.e. '_what you want isn't always what you need)_

"I brought lunch!" I announce as I follow her through the door that leads to the pantry of the studio. I find it amusing every time I see Santana in different places aside from my house. It feels new and refreshing, though I still miss seeing her arriving by the fireplace as I wait for her on our couch.

She smiles back at me, "Cookies aren't really something I had in mind for lunch. But thank you for your kindness. It is highly-appreciated!" She waves her hand and takes a bow.

I laugh at her antics, she must have had a British student awhile back, or someone with tons of manners, people lack nowadays. "As I find your humor entertaining, I brought Thai. I hope you're okay with it." I start pulling the takeout out of the bag and start preparing it at the table while Santana goes into the bathroom to change.

When she comes back, the food is all set. I don't know if she eats these things. I mean, given she's travelling around the world, but who's to say she eats cuisines from different parts of the world? I haven't really researched on how people of different cultures celebrate Christmas.

This time, I want to get to know this Santana. And then I start from there.

"You tell me, you seem to have me all figured out."

Not really.

I just shrugged my shoulders and grab some chopsticks and Santana does the same.

We were just enjoying each other's company. She tells me how her day was and I tell her how mine was.

"Tell me about your fiancé."

I choked on my food, and Santana immediately hands me a tissue and a glass of water.

You do not ask questions like that out of nowhere.

"What?"

Santana just raises her eyebrow and looks at my ring.

My physical reminder of my love for Clary.

I don't want to talk about Clary when I'm with Santana, the same way I don't want to talk about Santana when I'm with Clary. Guilt settles in my stomach and starts its way toward my throat and it unnerves me. I know it's not cheating. It's not. I'm not kissing Santana, even though it crossed my mind once. I don't act on these thoughts 'cause I know, this thing I'm doing with Santana—secretly helping her remember, is already unfair for Clary. I just don't want to do things that may damage our relationship. But I think I'm already doing something worth worrying about.

"You stare at it a lot and you play with it. Do you miss hi—her. I mean her, you're engaged to a girl, right?"

I guess the selfish part of me wished she wasn't asking that like she's just talking about the weather, like it's one of the things you ask when making small conversation. I just wished I could feel like she's not too keen about the idea of me belonging to someone else.

I search for _anything _in her eyes, anything that would tell me she's not comfortable with it, and she's here to win me back. I found none.

I simply nod and manage to put on a smile for her. "Does it bother you?"

She looks at me confused by my question, I continue, "That I'm engaged to a girl?"

Might as well throw that one out there. Maybe she'll give me some sign.

She laughs softly and shakes her head, "My bestfriend Brittany is bisexual. I wouldn't mind if you're engaged to a girl, if that's what you mean."

No, that's not exactly what I mean. Why can't she have her memories with her and when she has a mission at hand? She's human for me. How can I have her when she's not exactly the same person she was before? Well, maybe she still is, I just have to _wait _for her to come to her senses and realize everything. But it's just not possible for me, not right now.

_I want you to mind._

Because I mind that there's a possibility that Brittany wants you to herself that's why she's not helping me.

And well, there's a higher possibility that she's not helping me at all because I'm engaged.

_I'm not worth everything Santana sacrificed._

What did you sacrifice for me?

(Aside from the obvious, your memories and your life as Santa) Was that all? Did everyone in Santa-land hate me?

This is more of Santana's fault really. If she had just told me that she'll figure some things out and for me to wait for her, she knows I would. No matter how long it takes, she knows I would. But no, she just had to freaking leave me with a _kiss o_n my forehead like I'm supposed to know some hidden message from that.

Yes, Quinn. Blame everyone but yourself.

"Her name is Clarissa, well, I call her Clary, everyone does. I met her four years ago…"

Surprisingly, telling her about Clary came easy but was conflicting at the same time. Santana would've liked Clary, she probably would've approved her for me. Because Clary takes me as her everything. And I don't have to doubt anything because she shows it to me and she tells me every time she has a chance.

That's why I have to figure out these feelings soon.

I've been where Clary is - loving someone who somehow doesn't love you back the same way that you do. You're not dumb not to notice. But you love her so much you just had to be better everyday so someday, you could deserve her. I've been there. So I should know how _bad _it feels for one day to realize you weren't on the same page anymore.

"Are you happy?"

Santana would make a good therapist.

I look back at her, making sure I'm looking straight to her eyes, and then I nod.

"I'm glad you are."

* * *

><p>It's been a few weeks since Santana and I reconnected. Rachel still thinks I should continue what I'm doing but somehow when I tell her about my day with Santana, she's not as cheerful and excited as she was before, last time she just looks at me like she was about to say something, but keeps her mouth shut. Clary still doesn't know about Santana, aside from the fact that she's a regular in the Café. Apparently, when she came two days ago to the shop, she saw Santana before I came out of my office. I told her she's a regular customer and Clary was just looking at Santana and Emily and said that if she didn't know any better, Santana has been coming back because of my employee. I dismissed the idea immediately. I don't think I'm ready to entertain that idea yet.<p>

As much as I love hanging out with this Santana, I'm becoming frustrated at _our _current situation. So I make sure to drop hints from time to time. And as time passes by, subtlety continues to fade.

"Do you believe in Santa?"

She looks surprised by my _totally random _question and just stares at me with her lips turning up, "Really? That's your idea of getting to know me?"

I shrug my shoulders making it seem it was nonchalant, "What? Never been asked that question before?"

She just looks at me weird and drinks from her _milk _to hide her amusement. Yes, no matter how weird it is, I've just suggested she eats the cookies with milk now. "In all honesty, no. I've never been asked that question before."

My patience is wearing thin, but I decide not to let go of the topic. "Well, is that a no? You don't believe in Santa?"

She looks at me, studying me carefully, just like the way I had asked her what her name was.

Instead of grabbing another cookie, she put her hands to her lap, "I used to."

Okay, we're getting somewhere. I knew I can still get to her. "Used to?"

And now, she's looking everywhere but me. I wouldn't blame her. It is really unusual to ask if you still believe in Santa when you're in your late twenties. "I stopped believing in Santa when my dad died. Or I don't know. I guess I still believe in him, I just… it's not the same anymore."

"Why?"

"He reminds me of my dad."

Of course he does. He's the previous Santa.

Which made me think again, who is Santa now? Does Santana have a child somewhere in Santa-land? I don't think she would abandon her child to be with me.

I made a mental note to wait for Santa this year to find out, which is ridiculous but my curiosity gets the best of me.

"Oh. We don't have to talk about it." I think of how it pains Santana to think of her dad. It's still a touchy subject I think.

"Look, I don't want you to think I'm some weird grown up that still believes in Santa, okay? Your version of Santa is absolutely different from mine." She starts getting defensive and I keep myself from laughing. She's crossing her arms over her chest and she's looking at me with determination in her eyes. Probably what a child would look like if you insist Santa isn't real.

"You don't say." I say softly. If Santana had heard it, she didn't show it. "Try me."

Santana looks at me, studying me carefully, probably gauging if she should trust me with this. I hope she does. She bites her lip and then sucks in a breath, "My dad used to tell me stories about Santa, just like any other parent does." Nope. Not for me. "In his stories, he wasn't this old, white bearded fat guy who roams the world with his sled, screaming ho-ho-ho every Christmas eve. He doesn't really have a definite face to me, _physical appearances _doesn't really matter when your Santa I guess." I think, it's more of physical appearances don't matter to you. You were the first person outside my family to be friendly to Lucy. "He's more of… I don't know, I used to think he looks like my dad, a much cooler version of my dad maybe? And he gets to travel around the world in a split of second, meeting different people, just being _free."_

Oh.

Being free?

I really didn't think of it that way.

I thought being Santa is being tied to this responsibility you bear for the rest of your life. The need to have a family and the obligation to deliver all presents in all the parts of the world in a given time, and the rule to not get attached to humans, those _creatures _you're supposed to give temporary happiness once a year.

On a second thought, maybe I don't want to talk about Santa anymore.

Never in my life had it crossed my life that Santa will be this complicated.

_"_Then my dad dies, and it feel like he took Christmas with him, along with a part of me—"

"Not even the sweetest smiles of kids and Brittany's kindness can fill the hole he left behind?" I say softly before I can stop myself.

I don't dare look at her. She'd probably have this confused look again towards me wondering why I know this stuff about her. I don't think I can deal with that right now, knowing where this conversation will go. I've walked this walk, and I didn't like the hope it brought me. (Well, I did, but in reality, I'm more afraid of the consequences that comes with it)

"You've lost someone too, haven't you? Aside from this person I remind you of."

We'll talk about Grandpa, and she'll tell me it's okay to miss him.

I nod. "I did."

"Tell me about him."

I try to deflect the question. "How do you know it's a guy?"

"I guessed." Nope. You just know it deep inside.

"I don't really talk about him." I don't anymore. Not because I don't miss him, I do, I just… I'd rather refresh my memories of him with people who had shared a life with him, like Frannie. Because I know she loved him too.

Deciding on changing the subject, I get on to topics which Santana wouldn't talk about before, maybe she'll answer it now because her guards aren't up, "How did you father die?"

"He died when we was at work? Car accident." _Car accident?_

I know that Santana does not remember her life as Santa. But I don't think any of her memory has been altered. Well I haven't asked her yet if she had fallen for a girl, I'll save that to some other day. Baby steps indeed.

How can Santa die in a car accident if he's most likely travelling so fast it's like he was teleporting. Besides, I'm pretty sure he travels by air and not land. Isn't airplane crash closer to the alternative?

"Car accident?"

She nods. "He was saving this kid in the stree-"

Wait… kid…in Santana's world? Or in this world?

I know that Santa is a magical being. She's supernatural, or as Rachel would say, a _fantasy. _I've never pondered the thought of her immortality though. On our first meeting, she told me, her dad _died. _So that crosses off the probability of immortality, right?

More importantly, that crosses off the probability that Santana had lost her immortality for me. Because if it does, I think the weight of guilt I had in me has weighed less.

I don't think I can pry for more details about that because that would seem suspicious. It's not like I can ask, 'was your dad riding something or did he just got hit by a car?' or 'is your dad in a delivery business?' Yeah, no. I'll just think of other way to explore that topic as we go on.

"How did your grandfather die?" She cautiously asked, but I guess we're passed that line now.

"Alzheimer's." It's painful but I smile at the thought. "And the crazy thing is he keeps forgetting stuff, slowly as time passes by, but he still remembers me, or the previous me, Lucy—wait, what?"

Did she just…?

"What?" She's also confused by the interruption because she seems to be really interested to what I have to say.

"I never told you."

She looks at me as if I was stating the obvious. "That's why I'm asking."

I shake my head fervently, "No, I never told you it's my grandfather."

She shrugs, "I guessed."

You didn't. I just know that it's all slowly coming back.

Now I'm smiling, "It could've been my brother."

She rolls her eyes at me, almost irritated at how I'm making a deal out of this. The more I push all these connections in my head, the more annoyed she gets. I think of how this all about helping her so I just take it. "It's not a big deal, Quinn. I guessed, and I got it right."

It's so much more than that.

I guess I like where this conversation had lead us.

* * *

><p>"She's slowly remembering, Rachel!" I went directly to my bestfriend after my day with Santana.<p>

I'm pacing back and forth in front of her while I tell her excitedly about Santana's current progress.

"No Quinn. _You _are remembering, she's not."

She had this look in her face and I don't like it. I stopped in front of her and I glare down at her. "Why are you so against this?" I'm tired of this hot and cold treatment from her. I don't need any more of these mixed signals, I'm already getting enough from Santana.

She puts down her iPad, and matches my gaze on her. "Quinn, you have to understand that even if it seems all familiar to you, this is new to her. I could've guessed it was your grandfather too!" She exasperates.

I cross my arms, and stubbornly say, "I do believe there's no such thing as coincidence!"

Now, she stands up, completely letting go of her iPad. "You can't keep on overanalyzing things!" she cried. She now has that look when I completely ignore what she had said something big about her life because I'm not paying attention.

"This was your idea, Rachel! What happens to you supporting me every step of the way?" I try to avoid taking full blame so I went with that.

Though it would seem I've just put gasoline to the fire because now she's flaring up. Is Rachel pregnant? That is the only logical reason for her mood swings, I jump at her uproaring tone, "Because part of that plan is you telling Clary about Santana! You're more excited about Santana's so-called progress to her subtle-memory-recovery, than you planning your own wedding! Quinn, I've just told you I booked your favorite band! And I had pulled a lot of strings for that, put off so much effort, and all you've been going about is how Santana _guessed _you had lost your grandfather -which, on a positive side, is great, because it is the only time you talk about your grandfather without looking like a kicked lost puppy!"

I was stunned after Rachel had finished her burst. This is why she is my bestfriend, because she could talk some sense to me.

And most of time, I don't like the effect it leaves me.

I take a seat next to her in the couch and look at her dejectedly, "I just don't know how to tell Clary without making her worry."

She laughs without humor and I would've glared at her again if I wasn't feeling so down. "Let's not kid ourselves. Even _I _know that there is something to worry about."

I shake my head hoping it is enough to shut Rachel up. "Do you still want to marry Clary?"

I look back at my ring and play with it one more time. I nod my head weakly.

I love Clary. I do.

I bite back the tears that are threatening to drop. How is thinking about marriage causing me this much pain?

She seems to get my message and just runs her hand down my back soothing me. "Quinn… I know, that Santana not remembering anything hurts you, and you think how this is all unfair for you because after everything you've been through, it's like you're back to square one… into chasing after her. Is that why you wanted to inflict the same pain to her?"

I pulled immediately like I've been burnt. I keep a distance from Rachel and look at her aghast, "What are you talking about?"

He expression softened, "Do you want her to remember, so that she'll know what she had lost when you tell her you're marrying Clary?"

"That's not what I want!"

"Then what do you want? You can't string these two people around—"

"I wasn't stringing them—"

"You know what you should do. You should tell Clary, who is giving you everything to make you happy—"

"I _know. _God, I know. That's why I want to marry her, okay? That's why I love her. Because she will never do this to me! She would never hurt me."

"She doesn't have to. You're already doing it yourself."

At that, my tears start flowing.

Maybe it wasn't Santana who was hurting me all this time.

Frannie used to tell me that she had always thought I was beautiful, even when I was Lucy. I was just not seeing it, so others didn't see it too. And I keep looking for love, so I don't notice the people who already love me.

Maybe the problem is _me._

"You once said you wanted to _deserve _her, Quinn. Then do this. Tell her. Tell her, that this person you probably have loved the most is back in your life again. She doesn't remember anything, and you wanted to help-"

I stand up again, shutting her off and I start to pace. "She wouldn't understand it without telling her everything!" It helps me think when I'm moving.

"Then tell her everything! From where it all began!" And Rachel's words are not helping at all. Maybe I'd rather have Brittany's friendship. She would probably tell me to stay away from Santana and focus on Clary—which is what she's doing even when we're not friends. _Huh, _you look at that. If only I had listened to Brittany, then I would avoid all of this drama.

I snap at her, "Really, Rachel? Yeah, because 'Santa is real' is totally believable—"

"Clary is so in love with you, she'll believe anything you tell her. She _would_ understand. So then she'll have a _fighting _chance with you. You talk about a fair game, about how this is all unfair to you. How do you think this is all _fair _to Clary? And when exactly are you planning to tell her about Santana?"

"She told me, she doesn't want to know about my ex!"

Rachel rolls her eyes looking at me with disbelief, I quickly added, "She told me my past is my business, and our future is her privilege—"

"Yeah, that's great, noble even! But that's exactly the point: Santana will be part of your future from now on, except if you completely cut her out of your life! Eventually you have to tell Clary about Santana, and when will that be? When you _invite _Santana to the wedding when Clary had never heard of her? Or when you break up the engagement, knowing your cowardice, a day before or God forbid, on the day of your wedding?"

That's not fair. So much for Rachel putting a trust that I could handle this situation. If she doesn't trust me, then how could I trust myself?

I feel Rachel tug me down so that I could sit with her. She hugs me tightly and put strands of my hair behind my ear as I cry harder.

I can't help but ask, "Are you pregnant?"

She pulls away, looking at me perplexed.

I just shrug. "You were really intense, back there."

And in a snap, she just smiles brightly, "Thomas and I had been talking about finally talking that step, and I told him to wait a little while until this season ends. My character had developed—"

Okay. So an acting training.

No wonder she was going full force on me.

I roll my eyes at how spirited she is at telling me the plot twist their writers had in mind with her character stopping her bestfriend's wedding. And she was so happy to take it even if it was out of character because she knows she could pull off some 'great acting' because of my current predicament.

Should I be offended that she's using my dilemma to her advantage even when it's causing me so much hardship?

"And Quinn?"

I wipe my tears to look at her because my vision had become blurry, I sniffed, "Yeah?"

"I'm always here supporting you every step of the way. I mean that. Whether it's towards Clary or Santana." She looks sincere, and I believe her. Acting aside, I know she's true to her words.

"This is confusing to you, but always ask yourself. What do you want?"

What do I want?

I just want someone to love me.

And now I have two of them.

Really, be careful what you wish for.

* * *

><p>I was visiting Rachel at set because she was celebrating her birthday after so I decided to pick her up.<p>

Of course I know that I'll be meeting Brittany here, so before I reached this place, I've prepared myself for possible confrontations.

"That's a wrap, everyone!" Brittany yells up at set once the music stopped. Everyone claps their hands and I see Brittany tap one of Rachel's co-workers and tell her how great he was at the scene. I smile at how _different _she looks right now. She almost looked like the first time I see her. _Happy and carefree._

When everyone had spread out, Rachel told me she'll just get her things so that we could go. I make beeline towards Brittany and hope that I'll get to her this time.

"Brittany, you were great back there!"

A compliment doesn't hurt anyone.

She just nods in acknowledgement and say something about how she wouldn't take all the credit and that everyone has worked hard for it.

Wow, how diplomatic.

I shake my head at my own bitterness. How can I be nice to her when I'm being sarcastic. She's trying. Or at least I hope she was.

I decide to follow her to wherever she was going and decide to just go straight to the point, "I think she's slowly remembering."

She just shakes her head gently and now she's giving me a sympathetic look, "Quinn, don't get your hopes up, she's not."

I protest and insist, "She is! She doesn't notice it but she does—"

She turns her body to face me, and she put her hand on her hip, now looking at me harshly, like she had taught me something, and I just don't get it. "Quinn, your body is programmed to act a certain way when faced with something. To her, she's experiencing something new and so she acts accordingly. You think it's déjà vu, but it's the first time she's experiencing it." She turns around and starts packing her thing. "Just think of it as the same Santana, minus all the Santa-related memories. And that includes you."

I narrow my eyes at how she said it. I don't know Santana without the Santa package. I take a step towards her and pull off the high school version of me. "Why do you hate me so much?"

Instead of meeting me in the middle and taking a step forward, she just continue what she was doing as if she's not affected at all, "I think we've already established why."

This is not how I've imagined this would go, instead of backing down, I've went forward, "Are you in love with her?"

Brittany, in return, just laughs at me, and I hate how I don't have the desired effect I used to have. Maybe the high school Quinn has long been gone. She fires back, "Are _you_ still in love with her?"

I stay silent. I don't want to give her the satisfaction by answering. All I could do is just glare at her and hope that she'll get burned or something.

Brittany had finished packing and so she put her duffel bag on her shoulder and adjusted the strap. She looks at me—or my engagement ring rather, and then back at me. Her expression changed, though I don't know what that means. "You know what makes Santa different than other guardians?"

I look at her confused at the change of subject, I shake my head.

"Santa doesn't just grant wishes like genies. We don't need to ask what humans _need_… We just _know. _Because humans are _weak. _You know what you want, but you _deny _what you _need."_

She starts walking, but she stops when she's on my side. She whispers, "You want Clary's security, you want Santana's love. Humans are _greedy."_

I think I'm frozen to my spot because I want to face Brittany, but I can't, I muster up courage to talk back at her. "Is that why you don't like me for Santana? Because I'm human?" I manage to keep my voice for shaking. Is this what those people I intimated felt when I was talking to them?

"Humans want a lot of things. So what do we give them on Christmas?" It would appear that she had ignored my question. She's circling me now, and I don't know what I should do. I just follow her with my eyes.

"Humans, like your parents, sister, and your dearest grandfather, gave you what you _want. _On the other hand, like I've told you, Santana as Santa, can see if you're pure at heart, if you're _worthy, a_nd when you are, we make a way to give you what you _need. _That's how we operate."

She stops when she's behind me, I could feel her breath on my neck that gives me shiver down my spine. "I know what you need, and I am telling you, _you are not worthy._"

Before I could spun around, and ask her how do I make myself worthy, moreover, what is it that I need because I'm honestly lost right now, she's already gone and Rachel is looking at me worried, "Quinn, did you follow Brittany here?"

She walks towards me and she drags me away from the dressing room. Brittany managed to shake my ground, and leave me speechless. "I would really appreciate it if you don't scare her away." I scoff at that, yeah sure, _I _am scaring her away. "She's one of the best dancers we have and contrary to what you believe, she's really nice to everyone. She's patient to those who are not as gifted as me when it comes to dancing and she's—"

I block off the rest of Rachel's praises. Would it really be hard to take my side on this one?

* * *

><p>I met Clary when I was walking my dog at the park four years ago. And I got a dog when I was <em>coping <em>with my heartbreak over Santana. So in my mind, that was Santana sending Clary to me to heal my broken heart.

Instead of getting a haircut, or having one-night stands, I've decided back then to project my affections towards something that will love me back unconditionally, be loyal to me, be there when I call, and well… loves to cuddle. So I got a dog; it seemed to be a logical solution back then.

On the Wednesdays and Saturdays, I take my dog on walks in Central Park. Sometimes, I jog with him in the mornings when I feel up to it.

So now, I feel like incorporating this new me to the new Santana. So I had invited her for a walk this Saturday afternoon.

At first, she's a little surprised. She said she was expecting me to bring Rachel with me because I told her I was bringing someone; she even thought I'd introduce her to my fiancé. (I don't really think that'll be happening soon). And then she was unsure how to approach my dog.

I always assumed Santana was good with animals. She has 9 reindeers after all. Or was that me being stereotypical?

I teased her and told her how my dog would probably be more afraid of Santana biting him, than the other way around.

_Cookie _is my very own Dalmatian.

It's not that I'm a baker so I named him after a pastry.

He just looks like a cookie. _An Oreo cookie._ I giggle at the thought

When Rachel and I came looking for a dog, I didn't know what to find. We started looking at the pound and no one just seemed to touch my heart. I was ready to give up when Rachel insisted that I continue with this hunt even if I have to go to a pet store and buy a fresh new puppy instead of taking care an abandoned one (who she insisted was just like me). It was my first commitment to moving on and she will be damned if I give up on it.

So I did, and my eyes landed on it and I just knew right away I wanted it.

I think Dalmatians suit me more than any other dogs would.

Dalmatians are elegant, _friendly, _and can keep up with me on my runs. They start along as pure white, then as they grow, spots starts to show on them. And spots don't make them dirty, it's what got them popular in the first place. Just like me. I'm _pure at heart_, and then as I grow up, I get all these stuff with me that turns to flaw. And then it's what makes me stronger.

Well that's one reason I've been telling others why I got a Dal.

A bigger part of me just wanted to have a Dalmatian since I was a kid. I grew up with 101 Dalmatians, then there was 102.

So when I found one, I knew I just had to get one.

Santana just rolls her eyes at me and then starts petting my dog. They seem to get along just fine, and then we continued our stroll in the park.

We sat on the grass as Cookie continues to play around us. People look at us and there was a kid who wanted to put him and I let her. She's cute. And Cookie is just wagging his tail waiting to be petted. I notice Santana keeps giving Cookie the look I've been giving her when she wasn't looking. It's like Cookie had hurt her, and she wouldn't blame him because she knows it's not his fault.

"Just say it. This tension between you and Cookie is so strong, the physicists should study it." I try to joke around but she didn't laugh.

She bites her lip, and forms a thin line, and then she looks at me… was that _hurt _in her eyes? " I can't believe you named your _dog _'Cookie'!"

I raised my eyebrow at this, already getting curious as to where this conversation is going. I called for Cookie, and I tap my hand to my lap, and he goes snuggling to me.

"What's wrong with it? You don't like it?" I continue to play with Cookie's ears while petting him. I can feel Santana's eyes on me but I don't look back at her.

"Uhh, I don't know? How about the fact that you just named your _dog _aftera food for the gods?"

The way she speaks of _dog _got my attention. Also, I find it amusing how this Santana is enamored with my cookies. I think she noticed me _trying _to stop myself from laughing so she started moving closer to me and my dog. Her glare doesn't have its usual effect when we're talking about this kind of stuff. "You do know that 'Foods for the Gods' is a different pastry from what you usually—"

She rolls her eyes at me impatiently, "I know! That was just me saying those cookies are sheer heaven in a cookie bar! And—" My heart _always _skips a beat every time she praises my cookies. Is it possible to be jealous of her _love _for my works? She was never this vocal of her feelings when we were together. "—and for you to just name it to a _dog? _That's just—"

I quickly cover Cookie's ears and glare at her, "Yeah, how about you stop talking before you say things you'd regret! I'll let you know Cookie isn't just a _dog_!" I copy the way she said that word as if it is degrading. "He has been my Certified Emotional Companion ever since—" I stop myself before _I _say things I'd regret.

"Your _what _now?" She has no second thoughts at laughing at me, so she does, how rude. "Why do humans always get attached so easily to material things?" She looks at me then back to Cookie. "And well, in this case, pets?"

I open my mouth to respond to defend my honor, (more of Cookie's), but it just hit me. _That _is something the old Santana would say. How she questions most of the things human does that makes me wonder what kind of people (or beings?) Santana associates herself with in her world. Before I could stop myself, the words just comes out, "You've just implied that you're not human." That got her stunned. "_That, _or that was you saying you get attached easily too."

I know the latter was more of this new Santana's line, but I'm hoping she had meant it the way the old Santana would.

Is it wrong to wish that she'd remember? Is that what I need? To know what she'll tell me if she remembers? To hear her explanation why she's human and what she had sacrificed to be with me? Is that really why she's here?

Her eyes widen, and her composure changed. It would seem she didn't notice that she had said that out loud and then she started getting lost.

I feel guilty for pressuring her to _remember. _I wanted to reach for her. She tries to find it in herself, to make sense how I know these things about her, because she knows it's not all pure coincidence that I get everything right. She gets confused every time I do this, and then she gets lost to where I cannot reach her. Just like always, she goes to a place where I cannot follow.

She gives me a sad smile; still she looks lost in thought. "I honestly don't know what I meant by that."

How I wished she had lied and admit the latter instead.

* * *

><p>I wasn't ready to end my day with Santana yet because I had set my mind that after dealing with Santana, I would finally have a <em>nice <em>long chat with Clary. And I am not yet prepared for that so I insisted on coming with her to her apartment.

She lights up to the idea and she told me she was waiting for the chance for me to meet _Brittany, _and this was the perfect time.

I feel my stomach churn at the thought. I didn't have the heart to tell her I've changed my mind, seeing as how excited she is. It would've been obvious that I don't want to see Brittany, so I've just let her have her way. After we drop off Cookie at Rachel's place, where Thomas is happy to receive him, we go and head towards her apartment.

I feel my heart beat faster as we reach her apartment.

Brittany was there in the living room waiting for her while watching TV. Does Santa-land have TV? I mentally slapped myself. That is completely irrelevant.

Santana starts introducing us and Brittany just smiles and offers her hand telling me that Santana had told her so much about me. I keep myself from rolling my eyes as I realize how she's playing this. I knew this was a bad idea. I'm just not ready to have Brittany and Santana in the same room.

There was a knock at the door, and my panic grows bigger. I imagine the worst, thinking to some incredible coincidence worked by fate that Clary somehow just had to be here so the four of us could be in this one room.

Brittany notices my uneasiness and just smirks at me as Santana goes and answers the door. How she's having a great time with this is infuriating me. I clench my hand to fist and wait for Santana.

Santana comes back with the food delivery and asked Brittany for the payment.

Brittany chuckles softly like she's been reading my mind and heads towards the door. I should've asked if she has the ability to not only know our heart's desire, but also read minds. I make a mental note to ask her later, if she'll be friendly enough to shed some light to my wondering mind.

Santana asks me to wait by the living room as she and Brittany set the table up. I offer to help but she refuses saying I am her guest and she'd like to play a good host.

I comply with her, because I think I need a moment to calm my erratic heart.

Every time I plan something with these two people, it ends up ending the opposite way I had imagined it to be. I try to calm my nerve by breathing in and out, but it's not helping. I wonder how I'll face the both of them with this internal mess.

To my surprise, though, dinner went smoothly. Brittany mentioned that she and I had met before on Rachel's set and from there we try to find some common ground. Santana looked ecstatic to see that Brittany and I are getting along. Except we're not. We are far from that. I keep my guard up though, just in case Brittany does something.

I should've taken notes from Frannie on how to deal with these kinds of enemies. (Yes, I've considered Brittany as an enemy in the form of an assassin. Silent but deadly.)

Santana asks me to stay for a little while and watch some reruns with her and Brittany. I've always thought that Santana and Brittany are just like me and Rachel. But now, given the situation, I think the two comparisons are not accurate.

I keep up a façade for Santana and remember that I am in Brittany's territory and I have to play by her rules.

Santana gets a call from Sophia's father, which is _weird. _How close is Santana and her student's father, exactly? She leaves for some privacy and I almost cry for help and say, 'don't leave me with her!' Thankfully, I saved myself from humiliation. Brittany offers me some popcorn like we're suddenly bestfriends and smiles brightly at me. "Are you having fun, Quinn?" it would've sounded friendly if I didn't know she's mocking me. "I know you wouldn't mind 'Imagine Me & You'. Santana hasn't seen it yet, so I hope you don't spoil her with anything."

Imagine Me & You. Tsk. Of course I know that. Every lesbian probably knows that.

How _appropriate._

What? She thinks I'm gonna marry Clary when Santana remembers and then Santana will be Luce and I'll be Rachel? Yeah, way to cause some drama. Or maybe that was her saying Santana and I will still get together at the end even with everything that's happening to us… Nah. I think that was her reminding me that I'm still engaged to Clary, and that I shouldn't reach that point where it is in the movies.

Brittany is definitely a mystery to me.

"What do I need Brittany?" I ask her pleadingly.

She just looks at me, her expression not changing, "You tell me."

"I'm human! And humans tend to deny what we need! So please tell me."

There's a spark in her eyes that tells me I'm bordering in a dangerous territory now, "Stop asking me all these questions! I've told you things ever since we've met in the freaking _bathroom_! You're just blinded by your pathetic jealousy to see the bigger picture—"

"Then tell me, are you not in love with her? Admit it and I will drop it."

She glares at me and she had put the bowl of popcorn away, "That's the thing about humans. We can talk about this all you want, because no matter how many times I tell you the same things all over again, you'll just deflect it until you hear what you _want. _What you want is not—"

"What I need. I get it. I'm engaged, I'm not denying that. This is all confusing to me. And okay, maybe I don't deserve her, but you cannot blame me for things I cannot control. You _have _to understand. Santana told me to stop waiting for her. It was hard for me, trust me it was, but I did it. For her… for _me. _And then five years later, she comes back and just what? Expects me to drop everything so I could welcome her back with open arms?"

I was on edge. And I wonder if Santana is hearing all this. I hope she does. So she knows her dearest bestfriend is hiding something big from her.

Brittany takes a calming breath while closing her eyes, probably counting to ten before speaking up. Hey I used to do that too! "She will not remember, Quinn. That's just how it's supposed to be. I didn't make the rules, because if I did…" She laughs humorlessly, "I wouldn't have—" She stops herself. Taking a breath, she continues, "So this Santana? Take it or leave it."

She wouldn't offer me explanations. Is that against the rules? What rules?

Maybe she's right. I won't stop until I hear what I want. I won't stop until I get what I want.

And I refuse to believe that Santana won't remember. Because she is remembering. No one believes me because they don't understand what we had.

We both fix ourselves and face the television. Santana comes back later with her phone at hand apologizing for the interruption, "Sorry, Sophia is celebrating her birthday in three days and Mark has been nagging me about it."

Brittany and I nod in response and at the same time tap the space between us. She looks at us weird and just plops down between us. She looks back and forth to me and Brittany and when we don't say anything, Brittany grabs the remote and hits 'play'.

Talking to Santana would have to wait.

* * *

><p>In the middle of the night, I find it impossible to sleep. My hand reaches for my phone and I dial Rachel's number, "Rachel?"<p>

Her voice is groggy, "Quinn, what time is it?"

"I… I don't know. I'm sorry, I've—" Crap. Rachel had this rule about having beauty sleep when she has early on-call time at work.

"What is it, Quinn?" she sighs, and I can picture her rubbing the sleep off her eyes.

"You asked me what I want."

"What?"

"You asked me what I want."

I wait for her to recall our conversation two days ago, "Yes, I did."

"I want someone to love me."

"You have that—"

"What I want isn't what I need."

"Okay..? Quinn, I don't think I can decipher your philosophical messages at…" I hear ruffling and Thomas asking Rachel what is going and Rachel telling her that I'm on the line. "2:16 in the morning. So can we get to the point and tell me what you need? 'Cause _I _need some sleep." I hear her yawn to make a point.

"I _need _to be happy, Rachel."

There was pause and Rachel is probably waiting for me to continue, or she had fallen asleep.

"I just don't think I know how to anymore."

* * *

><p><strong>Favorite part? Most hated part?<strong>


	5. Chapter 5

**Guest: **Okay, that was a typo, sorry, her name is Clarisse. I was originally thinking of using the SAME petname for Santana, but I was like, that's pretty much plagiarism, so no? I think Santana named her cat Coffee bean because she's addicted to coffee (and this Santana isn't) and also, Quinn got her dalmatian when she was _projecting _her love for Santana to this replacement, so Cookie could be like their baby if they did end up together.

**Jammy: **Yes, I think Quinn reads too much too. It's gonna give her headache if she doesn't stop, isn't it? It's when you rewatch a Tv series, so you know what will happen, so when you rewatch the first episodes, you try connecting stuff even if in reality, you know it's not really connected at all, or maybe it is. (does that make sense? I haven't slept yet so I don't think it doesn't) Love the way you see Britt. In all honesty, I don't like canon!brittany, or at least what she had become, so when someone asked me how I will write Brittany, I had a little panic attack because I was thinking of not giving her much importance, because I seriously had no idea how to write her. Then I got this idea, that if there's one thing I'm sure, is that she cares for Santana so I'm at least gonna start from there.

**Coolyo: **Your reviews make me smile. I think I love you too! ;)

**Ben: **Well, we're all seeing things in Quinn's eyes so we like to believe that Santana is remembering. And that all of the things Santana is saying is related to her past life, but Santana doesn't know that so we have to be patient with her. But yeah, over all this is just confusing, and it will only make sense if we continue.

**Santa's Elf: **I love your name, and for saying that! I have no idea what I'm doing, this is all just a risk. I'm definitely surprised you're liking this!

**Guest TS: **I think every review is worth-reading! So... are you Quinn in the story or..? I'm sorry that you miss your ex by reading this fic! *hug* If you wanna talk you could always pm me! I don't think I can finish this before the years ends, BUT, I try to post something every week!

* * *

><p><strong>I've already know where I'll be going with this, and I seriously didn't even know where I got it! But I have my beta on my back, and I have trust in her! Still, I hope you like it! I would've dragged the whole reconnecting thing, and not telling Clary, but someone (BEN!) gave me an idea, it would've been better if Quinn is single for the rest of the story.<strong>

**WARNING: No happy Quinntana sideline at all. I think there's only one _happy _part for Quinn. (more of one line).**

* * *

><p>The morning sun reflects off the man-made pond across our yard, creating random puddles of gold light where I used to eat breakfast when I was a kid. My mother <em>loves <em>breakfast outside the house (especially in our yard which she personally decorated and turned into a beautiful garden). She was always about appreciating beauty, always saying things about appreciating _God's _gift to humankind, whether it's nature or human beauty. The sunrise gives off golden rays along that horizon where the eastern part of the Fabray household faces.

Growing up as a Fabray, you learn how to _love _waking up early.

_The early bird catches the worm, _my dad used to say.

Being a Cheerio, _forces_ you to endure morning training at five o' clock in the morning before the sun shines brightly; it's a Sylvester-thing. When I got to Yale the routine didn't change. And when I moved to New York, sunrise was one of those phenomena you'd really kill to witness because it changes how you look at the city. And when I became a baker, it really wasn't optional. But the good thing is I don't force myself into waking up that early and hating that I have to, because it had become a part of me and I love it.

For what it's worth, this is the _one _thing I love about being _home_ in Ohio. It's just so peaceful and calm in here, and this is where I see my mother in a different light. It is where I can see how _stunningly _beautiful she is.

I've decided to come back to my hometown for a while. I think I need this. A place where I can find quiet and solace. A place where I can find myself, maybe? Frannie always says that if you're having a hard time solving something, always come back to the start, to where it all began and start from there. It's always about the basics.

I need to know how to be happy again.

So here I am, in my mother's garden, thinking of a way how to talk Clary without utterly breaking her heart.

She's gonna be here tonight for the celebration of my father's 1000th win. Something to look forward to, huh?

Adding to the list of making myself happy is to make my father proud. Well, that was one of the things I've really wanted to do since I was kid, so yes, I think _that _would make me happy.

I can summarize my relationship with my father over the years in just two words: pure disappointment.

Imagine yourself, one of the best prosecuting attorneys in the state, and married to the most beautiful woman of her generation, you should have expected your life is too good to be true. My mom's side is a family of doctors, and she would've been a surgeon too if she didn't marry my dad - my dad wanted my mom to be a _good traditional _house wife (aka trophy wife), so she didn't go through Med School so she could marry him and stay at home: tending to her kids, managing some charity works here and there, being the new face of the Fabrays, and upholding the reputation.

They were considered a power couple to begin with... Frannie grew up just as my dad wanted her to be... then there's me.

The physical appearance was the first straw. I got my dad's recessive genes, which means I get fat easily. I get surrounded by my sister and my mother, and they can eat and do anything and can still feel good about it because they're beautiful. It doesn't work like that for me. I have to work extra hard to be fit.

When I became Quinn, my dad was _ecstatic _because I was finally playing my part. Given that he didn't approve much of Puck when we were dating, he still gave me freedom to do anything that I want as long as I meet his expectations.

Second was the Culinary School instead of Med School.

Frannie went to Harvard to be a lawyer, following dad's footsteps, and my mom had molded me to continue her dreams, so I went to Yale pre-med.

When my med school application came up, each of them had their own preferences. My dad wanted me to go to Harvard because he did, and Frannie was there finishing her last year of law school. My mom wanted me to go to Hopkins, because she would've gone there, and my Grandpa went there, and she thought that would be enough of a motivation.

_"Grandpa would've wanted you to go there." _

But it wasn't. Because for once, I wanted to do something for _myself. _Because I had to courage to say 'No' and tell them _what I want. _That was what Grandpa would've wanted me to do.

To my surprise, the mighty Russell Fabray still funded everything, _even _when I told him I'm thinking of going to London for special courses, he just nodded his head and told me to outline every expected expense and he'd fund it. I thought that was him telling me I still owe him my life, so I asked him why.

His face when I asked him why he hasn't disowned me yet stayed etched in my mind. He had massaged his temples; his elbows propped up on his old mahogany table in his office, his voice low but tired. "It's the family honor that lives on. Whether you're a lawyer, a doctor, or a mere _baker, y_ou'll always be a Fabray. You might as well be a goddamn _world-class _baker if that's what you're gonna be for the rest of your life."

The third-and what I thought would be the last-straw was when I told him Clary proposed and I told her yes. We were having dinner, I brought home my girlfriend-turned-fiancé and we told my family. My dad excused himself and he went to my mother's garden. Clary squeezed my hand smiling encouragingly at me. She might have thought that was him crying out of happiness however, I knew better. So I followed him silently.

He had stood where I was standing down, alone, his face looking up to the moon. It was the first time I saw him _cry. _You know how they say that real men don't cry? It's because when they do, it's when you know they are truly hurt. I shifted uncomfortably. I preferred him shouting and _directly _telling me how disappointed he is for what I've done. Anything but this. I was about to tell him how much I loved Clary, and all I wanted is for him to support me. He just looked at me without wiping his tears and just asked me to leave. He hadn't yelled and _demand _that I leave, he asked… He _asked _politely.

I nodded my head weakly and went back inside. I forced a smile Clary's way and didn't say anything else. I locked eyes with Frannie and she just smiled sadly at me.

Surprisingly, he still didn't disown me. He didn't object to the wedding. He told Clary he would assist in any monetary matters, but he never put any effort in getting to know her. He let my mother help in the wedding preparation. He was just there, idly supporting me. But from that point on, he kept his distance.

"I knew you would be here." Frannie puts down a cup of coffee in front of me and takes the seat across from mine.

I just smile at her in return and take a sip at the coffee she offered me.

"What is it this time?"

I look at Frannie confused and she just shakes her head chuckling softly. "This is where you go before you say or do something you _think _will disappoint someone." I was about to protest but the look Frannie was giving me was as if she was daring me to disagree, but we both know she'll win anyway. There' s a reason she hasn't lost yet in court trials. I slump back to my seat in defeat. "Stop intimidating me. I call the sister-card!"

She just laughs and how I envy her right now. It's not fair that she looks so flawlessly gorgeous and carefree at the same time.

"And by someone, I meant dad. So?" she leans in, putting her elbows by the table and putting her face above her intertwined hands.

"Bankruptcy?" I look at her in disbelief. She taps her chin and narrows her eyes at me and frowns. "You're calling off the engagement then?"

I glare at her and shake my head furiously. Maybe that's the plan—or I don't know. I'm not sure yet! I don't know what I want to get from my future conversation with Clary but I'm dreading that it'll reach that point.

She just smirks and sips at her coffee showing that she had won. "It's either of the two. So what is it?"

I was silent. I don't even know what to say. What do I know these days? I feel pathetic and I hate it.

"I saw Santana three months ago. Wanna tell me about that instead?"

I look at her aghast. "How about we talk about why you didn't tell me about it?"

"I'm telling you now, am I not? Besides, seeing as you're acting that way, you must have reconnected? Which means you've just confirmed the latter part." Frannie crosses her arms and looks at me pointedly. I was in complete silence. I'm not yet ready for any confrontation.

I wanted to get away from New York—from Rachel, Brittany, and Santana.

I need to do this alone. Without Rachel's advice, Brittany's confusing messages, and Santana's… Well, Santana's everything.

Frannie hates not talking. Not in a Rachel-rant kind of way, but in a 'the-more-I-distract-you-the-more-you'd-crack' kind of way which is her strategy in court trials. It has worked really well so far. "I've checked her police record and I found none." I look back at her and see her pout… _pout. "_Not even a parking ticket! I had to say, I'm impressed!" I raised my eyebrow at that. Trust Frannie to find that amusing. "Something must be going on. She either knows someone inside the police department or she doesn't know how to drive."

"Frannie!" Why can't it be that she's a good citizen? Or that she's probably never been human before so…

"What? I have to know the person who left my little sister into a crying mess for five months."

"_By threatening her? _And going over her police records?" Frannie looks offended and just glares at me cutting me off immediately.

"I was looking for dirt! You don't say _anything _about her but how amazing she is, and how she makes your Christmas the best holiday ever! How am I supposed to get to know her? Who knows maybe she's a part of Mafia or something-"

"Yeah, sis. I would date a daughter of a godfather to spite dad. Maybe he'll finally give up on me this time and drop me off the family name in utter shame." I roll me eyes. That is ridiculous. I wouldn't even go that far – and not that it was even realistic! What are the odds that I'd be dating a gangster anyway?

Frannie was silent as if she had considered my words and spoke up, "What a tragic story indeed. Daughters of a man of law and a godfather. Given it'll probably end up with lots of blood and deaths, I think it'll be—"

"Oh my God! We're just not going there!" I cried. Frannie is a fan of action movies. Please forgive her. "Santana is a normal person!" Aside from the fact that she was previously Santa, and now doesn't remember anything because she's human. Come to think of it, the goddaughter storyline is much more realistic than this. "She teaches at a dance studio—"

"By 23rd St. I know. I've checked."

My eyes widen. What did she do now? "_What?"_

She shrugs helplessly, palms upward. " I did a _normal _background check on her. No big deal."

I shake my head and put my hand on my forehead in shame. Is it too much to ask for a normal family for once?

"She's great, but I think you know that already. All the kids love her. If we're living in New York, I'd probably be enrolling Theo in her class, and just ignore the fact that she hurt you so bad. You've never told me how you two broke up anyway, so it did cross my mind that it was your fault. Is it?" She leans in like she's hot for gossip and I just stare at her, mouth agape. "But don't worry." She reaches for my hand to tap it once. "I'm your sister so I'll take your side anyway."

"Just leave her alone, please?" I plead, exasperated. I'm pretty sure Frannie has much more important things to do than investigate my ex-girlfriend. For once I'm glad that Frannie is not buddy-buddy with Rachel. They will be invincible at stalking Santana. And _that _would definitely push Santana away.

"Clearly I have to do something since she's the reason you're breaking up with your fiancé."

"I'm not breaking up with Clary!" I am aware that our voices are getting higher and higher but I make sure I make my point. This strategy of hers is getting to me and I'm losing it. Some people told me that I was in denial most of the time when faced to crisis, old habits die hard.

"Why not? It's unfair for her."

I let out a sigh of frustration and rub my face. This is not helping at all. Should I go to the library instead? Looking at the pile of books and bookshelves doesn't really help me think, but the quietness it offers is tempting. "I… I haven't talked to Clary yet. It's complicated."

I focus on the bush behind Frannie to avoid the look she's giving me. It isn't until she was playing footsie with me that I looked back at her confused. When she has my attention, she kicked me right in my shin. "Ouch! What was that for?"

She narrows her eyes and leans at me hissing. "To remind you what pain is!"

I know what pain is! And I know what I'm signing up for.

"I'm going to talk to Clary tonight! I just need time to _think _without anyone putting in something else to think of! I'm not doing this for Santana, or for Clary, okay? I'm doing this for myself!"

I think I needed to get that out. I'm tired of Rachel siding with Clary, Brittany protecting Santana, and Frannie looking out for me. They all have valid points and have reasons for their reactions. But if I'm aiming for my personal happiness, then I need to do this on my own.

There are walks you have to take alone.

Baby steps.

Contrary to what I've expected, Frannie just leans back and the fighting aura she had a while back is gone. Now she's just like when she first came, she's smiling and relaxed. "Good! Take your time, then!"

I blink multiple times and look at her lost. "What?"

She shrugs her shoulder, "I just needed to know what you feel. During your last year of undergrad, everyone had their own preferences for where you'd go. Dad wanted you to go to his alma mater, mom wanted you to go to her dream school, your midget-of-a-best friend wanted you to go to Columbia so you two could finally be together; I mean come on. _New York _is _not _the best city in the world, no offence." Frannie was not really fond of Rachel. _"I only tolerate a very, very little amount of Rachel. Like non-existent amount." _At most she just tolerates her for me, but she never spends more time with her than necessary. It must be Rachel's diva-ness, or (sometimes) self-centeredness, but over-all, Frannie overlooks Rachel's redeeming qualities and just rolls her eyes at her.

"You got yourself confused for the wrong reasons."

I slump my shoulders in defeat and look sullen. "I don't know what I need, sis. I'm lost. And I don't know how to find my way back."

"If you don't know what you're looking for, then how can you get lost?"

_If you don't know where you're going, any road will take you there._ "What? Quoting Alice in Wonderland now?" I tease her.

"I was going for Yogi Bear when he said, 'If you don't know where you're going, you will wind up somewhere else.' But I was saving my intimidating reputation, so yeah, Alice in Wonderland works too."

I can't imagine Frannie watching Yogi Bear.

When we were kids, dad preferred Frannie studying over watching cartoons with me. She was either working on her lessons, reading her books, or with dad. Maybe now that they have Theodore, my super-adorable three-year-old nephew, she's having a second try at childhood.

I must be failing at keeping myself from laughing because Frannie leans in to smack my arm lightly, "Don't judge! Theo loves Yogi Bear."

"I bet he does."

Then we both resolve to laughing.

When we get ourselves together, she goes back to the subject at hand, "Do you know why dad has always been closed off? Why he isn't as affectionate as other parents are?"

Because he only cares about the _family honor_?

Family first before personal honor.

Before Jonathan proposed to Frannie, he went to us first. When my dad got alone time with him, I knew he was giving him the infamous Fabray speech that I think has been passed down from generation to generation. I think the reason he hasn't taken that length with Clary is that he doesn't think she's worthy of the name.

He's not homophobic. He just would've preferred if I married a guy.

"One thing I've learned from him is that 'best decisions are those which are not influenced by emotions'. That's what gave him his 1000th win; cause he only looks at the facts. Regarding family matters, he makes decisions based on one thing: what will its effect be on the family's honor? You should know that; we practically grew up on his Fabray speech."

Of course I know. When I came out to him, he didn't look at me with disgust. I think personally, he doesn't have a problem with homosexuals; just how people look at them. _"It's not about the information! It's about the assumptions people made from them! A _Gay_ Fabray? What would people think of that?" _I was going to tell him to stop thinking of others' opinion because they're pretty much intimidated by him, but I know it will only fall on deaf ears. There's no changing Russell Fabray's mind when he's all set on something.

"What? So I should ignore my feelings and look at the facts? That's your advice?"

She shakes her head softly. "You can try but you won't succeed."

I scoff. "Thanks for the encouragement. I could totally feel your love."

She pats my head and laughs. "Because you're emotional, Quinn. You always have the need to please everybody but yourself. You let others define your life because you accept the love you think you deserve."

I bit my lip to process what she said. My conclusion?

True story.

I can't help it. I grew up from a bad childhood where I live to meet the expectations of everybody. I can satisfy their demands, but I can't overdo it because I'm Francine Fabray's_ younger sister_. I have to be the second-best. So when someone shows me love, I happily accept it.

* * *

><p>I don't know if dad would be happy or even more disappointed if I call off the engagement.<p>

I've been thinking of what the consequences of my talk with Clary would be. Knowing her, she would ask me where do we go from here. And up to this point, I'm still not sure what I want to do next.

_Best decisions are those which are not influenced by emotions._

If only I could just set aside these damn feelings then this would've been easier. Why do feelings make things complicated?

"You know, I feel so out of place right now."

I turn around slowly as I brace myself for the inevitable.

Somehow, seeing Clary right now comforts me. She's wearing a simple black dress with one strap over her left shoulder, her light brown hair tied on the right. Her arms are wide open and held out for me. I walked towards her and wrapped my arms around her.

_Lavender._

Inhaling her scent, I nuzzle my nose to her neck and tighten my hold. What did I ever do to make her fall in love with me? I don't deserve her.

"I've missed you too, babe." She says, chuckling softly as she pulls back to give me a chaste kiss.

Without fully letting go, she looks around the place and I see her bedazzled. "The Fabrays sure know how to throw a party."

I let out a small laugh at how overwhelmed she is. Since we've been together, she's never been to one of the social gatherings my mother's put together. After I left for college, I've tried to stay away from all the prying eyes. I only come back for really important occasions: like Frannie's wedding, my parents' birthdays, and my parents' anniversary. The last two are obligatory since up to this point we are still trying to portray how happy and undivided our family is.

I notice Clary hasn't spoken anything yet, and I thought she was still looking around when I find her staring at me. "What?"

"You are_ so_ beautiful I don't even know why I'm not melting just standing near you."

I feel a sudden rush of warmth overtake my body starting somewhere in my chest and then radiating out to my fingertips and face tingling along my skin. I try to hide the blush threatening to glow by looking away, but Clary reaches up to my chin and keeps my gaze on her. "I am so in love you."

It may be different but Clary can still manage to take my breath away.

I swallow the sudden lump in my throat and then shoot her a smile before saying, "I love you too."

I lean in and pepper small, light kisses along her cheek, until I connect our lips and hope that it is enough to show her how sincere I am. I am doing it slowly, gently, while my arms hold her and my hands massaged against her back.

If only I could just forget Santana and offer myself to Clary wholly without a second thought.

I was doing fine before Santana came crashing back to my life. I was sure of my future with Clary. I even considered having kids with her. But Santana just had to mess up with me again.

_"I will hurt you even more until you hate me. I wouldn't blame you if you do… I wish you would. Because then it'll be easier for you to forget what you want."_

Damnit Santana.

Is that what you want? For me to hate you? So far, the universe has been doing a great job making that happen.

You told me I'd find someone who would give me the love that I deserve. That woman is standing right here in front of me and I'm about to break her heart because you've managed to steal my heart without even trying for the second time.

Why is loving you this painful?

We finally pull away from each other when we hear the clearing of a throat. We compose ourselves, and I'm met by two pairs of eyes studying us.

I keep my hand on Clary's back as we both acknowledge my parents.

"Mr. Fabray, congratulations on your 1000th win! Wow, that's amazing! I don't even know what to say." My father just smiles and nods his head.

Can't even get a word from him. Seriously.

"Mrs. Fabray, you look wonderful tonight!" Unlike my father, my mom gracefully leans in to hug Clary briefly, and she's managed to compliment Clary in return. "Oh Clary dear, I thought we agreed on you calling me Judy."

Clary just smiles shyly and boys her head a little, "Right, Judy…"

I zone off from their conversation as I lock eyes with my father. I don't know what he's thinking as he studies me and my fiancé. Trust a lawyer with a reputation like his to show no emotion when scrutinizing someone.

Luckily, the governor comes to where we were and my parents excused themselves.

I let out a sigh when we're both out of earshot of them.

I lead Clary to the table reserved to us and I quickly grab two drinks from the waiter's tray.

"You'll need this." I tell her as I take my drink in one go.

"Slow down." Clary tells me as she smiles at me amused.

"You've never been into one of these." I move my hand to point around us. "It looks so much prettier than what it really is."

"I think I can handle it just fine as long as you stay by my side… sober." Before I can reply, I feel a tap on my shoulder. I turn around to see who it is, and I feel small arms around my neck.

"Aunt Quinnie!" Thank God for Theo.

I hug him back immediately as I see Frannie and Jonathan greet Clary.

I need some strength and I hope I can get some from Theo. This will be a long night.

* * *

><p>After hours of drinking, fake smiling, forced courtesy, interviews about my opinion on my father's rumored jury application or senatorial candidacy—which I know the latter is much more probable, <em>flaunting <em>of the Fabray lifestyle, and more drinking, I find myself strolling across the garden with Clary, I take a glance at my fiancé, who's admiring my mother's flowers, which indeed turned magnificent. You should expect no less from my mother's work. We could hear the party going on, but it was dull, like it was coming from somewhere far. I felt queasy and had to swallow against the hot flood of bile in my throat, suppressing the urge to wretch.

I think of postponing the unavoidable until tomorrow, but I think that if I don't tell her now, then I won't tell her until it's too late (as Rachel bets on, would be a day before the wedding – yes, she had actually _bet _on it.)

We reach the gazebo which is the center of the yard and there I pull her towards me and put my arms around her, swaying her body to an imaginary rhythm.

I feel worse because I never thought I could feel things like this so intensely for someone, after Santana. Maybe not as intense—or damn. I really don't know. I promised myself I would stop comparing both of them. They were both different, and they both play an important role in my life.

"This is my world, Clarisse. How are you liking it so far?" I whisper against her neck, and I feel her pause. She pulls away just enough to smooth away my hair messed up in my face.

"As long as you're in it, I don't care what world it is."

"I don't deserve you being so in love with me like this." I now feel the tears threatening to drop and I put my face back to her neck. "I'm afraid that you'll see the real me and you'll hate it and—"

"You really think that?" she whispers back, and she pulls back to put both her hands to my face wiping my tears. "Please don't do that. I don't think I can hold it any much longer when you give me those loving eyes." I nod, unable to speak.

"When I proposed to you I knew that you were so much more than the baker I fell in love with. You're a Fabray! Everyone knows about the famed Russell Fabray of the esteemed Stinson-Marty case. And I get that you're different from any of your family, still, you could be intimidating sometimes. But you're just as exceptional as they are in your own ways. If only you could see yourself the way that I see you, then you can never doubt yourself. _I _am lucky to have you." She smiles, a small, unsure smile, and then leans forward, and I feel myself suck in a breath right before my eyes slam shut, bracing for it. Clary rubs her lips against mine, so delicately, the pressure's almost non-existent.

If I'm going to deserve Clary, then I have to be honest with her. I'm not completely letting her go. I'm still not sure about what I feel for the both of them. I just know that I feel strongly for both Santana and Clary. I'll figure it out along the way, but I won't keep it from her. She deserves that much.

"Remember when I told you that I had only one serious relationship before you?"

Here it is.

"What about it?"

What are the odds that she will believe that Santa is real? I don't think she needs to know that, anyway I can't even prove it to her and I don't think it is relevant because Santana is no longer Santa.

I took both of her hands and lead her towards the chair where Frannie and I sat this morning. I stay silent to collect my thoughts carefully. "I know that you don't want to know about my past… but I think that you should, especially now, that… it'll probably be part of my—our future. Our future, if you'd still have me."

"Quinn, of course—"

"No. Please. Listen to me first. And then you tell me." I close my eyes slowly, take a breath, and open them. "I wasn't always like this. I was Lucy before. That's my first name. I was so different it looked like I was adopted. I wasn't even blond! I—" I stop myself from continuing. I've let go of her other hand and reached for my purse. In there I grab the picture of me when I was 11. I let her see it for herself.

"You've seen my world, so you could imagine the life I had looking like that. It doesn't matter how smart I am, or how much potential I showed."

"If you're worried that because of this I'll—"

I look at her pointedly and she closes her mouth. "My Grandpa was the only one who loved me. Frannie and I started getting along when I was in high school, and though I felt that she cared about me during those times" I point to my picture, "it was Grandpa who showed me genuine care."

She was silent this time, waiting for me to continue. "He died, and then there was no one again."

She catches the change in my tone and she tightens her grasp in my hand. Only she didn't know it was because of the part that I was about to say. "It was then that I met Santana."

I feel her stiffen but she tries to recover it. She swallows audibly and asks, "The same Santana…" _Try _being the operative word.

I nod my head weakly. "She was different before. But to summarize it, she became a bigger part of my everything. It's like… She's seen me at my worst, and she still stayed." Stayed as long as she can. "And then I fell in love with her. I know that Santana and I… we could never happen. She had a different life. Sort of like mine. A family legacy that needs to be continued and she was the only heir so…" I've thought of these words carefully and I hope I'm not leaving her to a misunderstanding. "But we finally got the chance to explore being in a relationship with each other.

"It didn't last long though. It was short, but God, it was so… _magical_. And I know, that that's cliché, however in a sense that was what it felt like. Being with Santana is like living a fantasy. My heart tells me that it was the best and greatest feeling I have ever had. Regardless of the heartache it brings me as I watch her leave, regardless of the times that I miss her so bad when I cannot have her. Being with her, even for the shortest of time, made me extremely _happy and contented." _I find myself looking at the stars in the sky. There are things that are thought of as fantasies merely because they're far away. That was what Santana felt like. She's near but yet she's so far away. Starry bodies are like that. Just as it is with people who are too beautiful, they readily disappear.

_ "_I was so broken, I thought I was beyond repair." I look back at her and I see her eyes watering. _I've caused that. _"I think after that, I lost myself. And I'm still figuring some things out."

I try to smile, as big as possible as I keep myself from reaching towards her again. I don't think I have the right to touch her. Not yet. Not until she tells me to. "That's where you come in. You've picked up the pieces and I've learned to love again. I… I love you. I do. And when I told you I'd marry you I meant it and—"

Clary nods. "What changed?" she asks, squeezing her eyes shut tight. It hurt me to watch her struggle to put her walls up, and I feel like I want to stand up and hug her and soothe away her pain. I stop myself because I just couldn't do that to her.

"She's back. And she doesn't remember me. And I think…" I swallow thickly before continuing. "I think that I want her to remember."

My tears dried up, and with a thick swallow I banished the rest of them. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest loudly.

Almost reluctantly, Clary stands up and I see her weaken as she grabs the back of the chair for support. She's crying silently and she moves to the railings at the side of the gazebo, looking at the direction of the house.

"I'm so sorry." I whisper, so softly I wasn't sure I'd actually said the words, and if I did, if she would hear me with the distance between us.

Clary shakes her head slowly. "No."

I didn't understand her denial. I am sincerely sorry for putting those emotions in her. For hurting her. For making her feel what I'd felt. I opened my mouth to try to explain, but Clary shushed me.

"I noticed… I noticed that you were being distant. I thought… I thought that was just your disinterest in the wedding. I brushed it off and kept in mind that you're marrying me and that you love me. But to see you like this… to hear you talk about her like that, talk about your _feelings _for her? It's heartbreaking and surprisingly breathtaking at the same time. It was so incredible. I could feel how strong it is."

I stood up quickly, wanting to be close to her cause I feel like she's physically slipping away. "You _have t_o understand, I'm not doing this because I don't love you anymore, or that I love her more. I'm telling you this because I _love _you so much it's painful. I know what it feels like. To love someone to the point that you give her your _everything. _And when she leaves, you're just left with nothing and you don't know how to rebuild yourself again."

I put both my hands against her cheeks and I brought her face closer to mine, to press my lips against hers delicately. I held her against me for a moment, and I felt her melt into the kiss, though unlike our other shared kisses, her arms didn't wrap around my body, it was just there, on her sides holding the railings, gripping it like her life depends on it.

Clary shifts her face and I press one last glancing kiss against her lips. Her eyes stayed open, and so did mine. "I'm not telling you I'm leaving you. I'd just… I want to figure out who I want to be with. I don't want to _settle _with you just because I can't have her. I want to give myself to you even while knowing that Santana is there for me.

"I want to choose someone not because I can't have the other, but because I want to be with her and only her. Do you understand? I don't want you to be my plan B, or for Santana to be my plan B. I know what it feels like to be the second-best and trust me when I say, the consolation prize never felt like 'it-was-fate-that-gave-me-this' kind of feeling, it's more of 'they-settled-for-me-because-they-can't-have-what-they-want'. And it sucks so bad there's not even a slight feeling of satisfaction. So _please_, give me time."

I pull away and slowly, I remove my engagement ring. It felt harder than I imagined it to be. I feel the cold wind hit the area where my ring used to be just seconds as I drag it off my finger. "One day, I'll have to choose. If it's you, then _I will propose to you. _I will be able to say, 'I belong to you _completely_. I give you my life if you will still have me.' And if not…" I feel my throat dry up. Her eyes were searching mine, already puffy red, and the look on her face made me have to fight down the urge to curl into a ball and bawl my heart out. "If not, then—"

She kissed me instead completely drowning my words. She probably sensed I just couldn't say it out loud.

"Let me have you tonight. All of you."

I let her. I gave everything that I could give.

* * *

><p>I let Clary sleep in for a while. We had a long night and I think that she needs it.<p>

I don't know when I'll be back again so I head towards my dad's office.

It was 5:15 and a part of me isn't surprised that he's still awake. He's nursing a glass of Bourbon. Knowing him, it's probably a 20 year old gift. It's his habit to drink something like that after every celebration. He always has his 'me time' with a glass of alcohol at hand.

"Do you want some?" he offers me. I look surprised. He never offers his drink to anyone.

Before I could shake my head, he's already pouring one for me. To be polite, I take a seat across him and wait for the glass.

"I think I'll be retiring soon," he says as he offers the glass my way.

I raise my brow at this. Him? Retiring? "Thinking of running for the senate?"

He laughs in amusement and I wonder if he's already drunk. I've never been around him when he gets drunk. And now I'm thinking how he's so much better drunk than sober. "No. I think of retiring for good. Probably spend the next months travelling. Your mother has wanted to see Asia for a change. A change of scenery she says."

Asia?

We have some properties across Europe. Well, properties my dad inherited from his father. And we used to take vacations there. I think Asia would really be a change of scenery for mom.

Look at that, my dad giving my mom anything she wants. I think if my dad was capable of loving someone aside from himself, then it would only be my mom.

"Where are you planning your honeymoon? We could look for something out there and give you a house as our wedding present."

Woah. Bourbon, what have you done to my dad?

I don't know if I should tell him that the wedding has been postponed. I don't want to pop his happy bubble because I'm starting to enjoy it.

I take a sip from my cup and god, it was heavenly. Maybe it'll make me happy too, even if it's only temporary.

"Was there ever a moment that I had that made you acknowledge me as a Fabray?"

I look back to his blue eyes.

The room was not lit well, but I can see his eyes almost clearly. I used to be scared of him. Scared at how tantalizing his eyes are. Scared that I'd only see distress when it was turned on me.

"No."

To my surprise, I wasn't even affected by that. I think, I had known that for a long time. I just needed to hear it from him.

"Because every time you come close, I always think that you could be better."

I took a sip and then I laugh bitterly. "And what? That's supposed to make me feel better?"

I think, over the years, he found my talking-back-to-him entertaining so he laughed as well. "Nobody is born equal. It was the idealists who had implanted the lie to humankind that gave them false hope."

Ooh. He's starting to give another speech.

"People aren't born good or bad, smart or thick-headed. Maybe they're born with tendencies either way, but it's the way you live your life that matters and the people you associate your life with."

"You grew up with your grandfather, you're barely a Fabray."

It's not my fault no one on your side of the family wanted anything to do with me.

He didn't hiss it like I thought he would. His eyes didn't even change. Or I'm getting so drunk that I don't notice anything. He pours me another one when I finish mine. I think we're becoming drinking-buddies now.

"He was more of a father to me than you'll ever be. If you wished that you'd had another child, then I wished twice as much that I had a different father. The only time that you are there for me is when you tell me I'm not good enough. Parents are supposed to boost their child's confidence, not crash it." I think that I'm too tired because I had said that as calm as I can. This is the only time that we had actually talked about this. I don't know what happened to me. It's like I have this courage to say this stuff I have buried inside me.

He was silent. I'm not sure if it is his angry-silent mode, so I stay silent too waiting for his next move.

He was just there sitting on his chair nursing his glass at hand, casually bringing it to his lips.

"Is that why you haven't disowned me yet? Because you never thought I was a Fabray from the start so there was no point in cutting me off?"

That has been bugging me. I think this time he'll tell me why.

"Do you hate it that much? Being a Fabray?"

Do I?

Most of time yes.

Sure it did give me some perks, say monetary-wise, and the reputation that comes with it. But otherwise, I hated everything. The pressure. The living under his shadows. The expectations.

"I wouldn't blame you if you hate me. I hated my father, too, as much as you probably hate me. Is that what you're waiting for? For me to cut my ties with you? That's why you're doing all this? You're calling off the engagement, aren't you?"

I bite my lip and keep it in a straight line. I just stare back at him, meeting his gaze. Everyone who has attended this celebration, including some press, is aware of my engagement.

To call it off means making another scene.

Of course he would've cared more about its effect than how I'm feeling. Again, I'm not surprised.

"I know when you're about to say something completely out of the Fabray way of living."

He stands up, still with the glass on his hand. Before he starts pacing—he likes to walk too when thinking, I think I got that from him. He pours me another round. "Culinary School. Coming out. And the proposal. You had the same look before you told me.

"Your mother and I were expecting a boy when she was pregnant with you. She had a lot of complications when she was in labor. I think from that point, we should have expected you'd be difficult."

Wow, so even from birth, I'm already a disappointment. I'm glad to know.

"But when you were born, the gender didn't matter, the pain didn't matter. _Oh, _the look on your mother's face when she first held you! It was magnificent. She knew right away she would love you the most."

Really? It didn't feel that way. Well okay, at some point maybe I did feel that way. Frannie was dad's favorite, and I was mom's.

"She would rarely let others hold you when you were a baby. Your mother loved your grandfather dearly, and you got most of his features. Your eyes… your hair; it probably reminded her of home. You didn't look like a Fabray at all. I think, sometimes, that it is why she loves you exceedingly."

I think that was him saying, my mother wanted me to become what she had always wanted for herself. "You two have no idea how to be parents at all," I tell him while laughing softly. He sat in front of me by the table.

It was then when he laughs genuinely. _Genuinely. _What gives? I must be dreaming, or we're both drunk.

"Does anyone ever really knows how to be a parent? Your mother and I did what we thought should be done for the family. When you have yours, you will understand."

"Frannie has hers and I think she and Jonathan are doing a much finer job than you and mom did."

"For that, I am truly proud of her." The way he says it makes me want to run away.

_Ouch. _I think as much as I despise him, there'll always be a part of me that is craving for his approval, which I may never get.

He puts his hand on my shoulder and I slowly look up to him. "Every time you turn away to what your mother and I want you to be, you always come back into so much more. And _that's _what makes you a Fabray. You always want to be better. Consequently, that's what makes us unhappy too. We're never content. If you could just close your eyes, set away those feelings and think of that one thing that you cannot shut down, then you'll know what will make you happy. Then you'll know that one thing you can't live without."

Just like Miss Holiday said when I was high school.

Was there a chance that she's a Fabray too?

Nah. She's too cheerful and free-spirited to be a Fabray who lives by the rules.

He puts down his glass and smoothen his pants. He clears his throat then pats my head just like when I was a younger, years before they forced me into our lifestyle.

"I may be the worst father out there and no matter how much you hate me… wherever you are, whatever you are doing, I will always support you for you are my little girl."

He kisses the top of my head and then starts heading towards the door.

In the end, I guess that's all I've ever wanted to hear.

* * *

><p>A week of radio silence is enough for me to get back on my feet. Rachel has been giving me therapeutic post-break-up sessions through sappy movie marathons, ice cream, alcohol, and stuff that can distract me from this. Cookie has been a great help too, he's never left my side ever since I got back. I knew I got him for a reason.<p>

Today though, I think I'm ready to face Brittany again. Well, to be honest, I think I'm not ready yet. I feel like I need another month to stay in my suite and drown myself in self-pity but Rachel (I seriously don't know what I'd do without her, and also, there was Frannie threatening to do the unthinkable if she finds out I've been rotting in my suite like last time) has insisted I face Brittany now. I know Brittany's schedule, and on Saturdays & Sundays, she takes over the dance studio. I think that before I see Santana, I should go to Brittany first. I decide on following my instinct on this one so I drop unannounced to the studio.

Knowing that Clary is aware of my mission, I now bear half the guilt every time I take a part of Santana's memory recovery. When I reach the door to the dance studio though, I see Santana's arm around a girl whose back is faced towards me so I can't see her face. They… They're _dancing._

A sense of fear and panic overcomes me almost immediately. I look up, and even though there's no sky, I'd like to think I'm looking at God's direction. I clasp my hand over my heart.

_Can my heart get a break just for a second. Seriously?_

What is Santana doing here? I quickly reached for my phone to check the picture of their schedule I've screenshot. I did a double take to make sure I got it right.

It is Brittany's schedule day. Why is she here instead?

I'm about to start walking away when I come face to face with Brittany.

"Brittany" I breathe out. This is not what I have in mind.

Brittany looks at me skeptically and then smiles at me. It's different, and I don't know what that means. There's also a glint in her eyes that tells me she's about to surprise me. What's about to happen?

She takes a step forward and when she's an arm's length away from me, she puts her arm around my shoulders and turns my body around towards the door. Before I know it, she pulls me closer and leads me inside the studio.

"We have a visitor!" Brittany chirpily announces as we both enter the room. Now the panic has risen to my stomach. Brittany has constantly been giving me confusing signs. I can never know with this girl. On the brighter side, I would like to be optimistic and only hope that she hasn't brought me here for sheer torture.

Santana, and the girl, who turns out to be Emily, break apart, and they both look at me. Emily looks surprised and embarrassed, though I don't know why, and she keeps a distance from Santana.

Santana has been oblivious to my employee's sudden change of mood and just greets me with a bright smile. "Oh hey, Quinn! You're back! How's Ohio?"

I was so consumed in studying the scene in front of me that I had fallen silent, when Brittany, who still had her arm around my shoulder, spoke again, breaking me out of my trance. "I think you should reserve that conversation for some other time, right Quinn?"

Of course she knows even without telling her. She's omniscient and all that.

"No, it's okay. I'm leaving…" Emily speaks up for the first time and she hastily reaches for her bag.

Santana's features sadden and she reaches for the brunette, "Emily…"

Emily avoids Santana's eyes and keeps her gaze on her bag, "I'm actually about to meet my friend so…"

Santana's behind Emily now, pleading, "Emily…"

Emily forces out a smile and says, "I'll see you soon, Santana!" She heads towards our way and before leaving she addresses me, "It's nice to see you back at the city, Quinn."

The three of us watch her go. It wasn't until she's out of sight that I look back at Santana, apologetic. "I'm sorry if I…-"

Santana's shoulders slump in defeat and sighs shaking her head gently, "No, it's… it's fine. There's always next time, I guess."

I feel my stomach clench in nervous knots as I shift there uncomfortably. It's like the time when I borrowed Frannie's favorite dress and completely ruined it.

I don't know if I should expect Santana yelling at me, or her being disappointed in me. I don't know what's worse.

"Did you know that Emily used to dance?" Brittany says as she finally lets me go of her hold and walks towards Santana handing her a bottle of Gatorade.

I look confused, "What?"

"I haven't seen her dance yet, but the way she talks about it… she just looks so alive and so passionate about it." Santana's smiling, and how I missed the way her eyes lit up as she talks animatedly about something… I'm just not delighted that she's talking about… _Emily._

Brittany chimes in again, "She just stopped dancing. "

And then as quickly as Santana's eyes lit up, it is gone and was replaced by dissatisfaction and I think that it is my fault. _Oops. "_And… I was getting her to dance but you came and… not that I'm blaming you…" she quickly adds. "Okay, maybe sort of." She laughs. Too bad I'm not finding this funny at all, but I smile at her as if telling her 'I'll humor her'. "But it's fine. I'm gonna get her to dance again." Then there's determination.

Wow. All of those emotions in one swoop. What exactly is happening here?

In my defense, I'm here for Brittany and was not expecting to see Santana and Emily together. So I didn't intentionally ruin their time together. I look at Brittany for help but she's facing the mirror doing some dance moves already. I'm pretty sure she could sense my confusion even with our distance but she decides to leave me in the dark again. Any consistency would be nice. Next thing I know, she'd be yelling at me for not getting the point of this whole ordeal. Is it my fault Santana is a _whole _mystery to me? Brittany is the only one who could translate her to me and instead, she's enjoying my bewilderment to the whole situation.

"Speaking of which... I know that we've only known each other for a month, but I need a favor."

I shift and then I look back at her my eyebrow raised, "I… okay? What is it?"

Santana just smiles at me, which for reasons beyond my understanding made me want to punch something. "It's about Emily…"

Of course it is.

* * *

><p><strong>Favorite Part? Most hated part?<strong>


	6. Chapter 6

**Jammy: **I wanted it to be sad and heartbreaking. that was one of the parts I really hoped I pulled off well. That was not the last will see her. She'd still stick for more drama. I know someone like (my version of) Russell, he's my friend's father and my friend dislikes him, but he's like, 'when you have a child, you'll understand'. i just think that canon!Russell was made to be hated, and even tho it sucked that he kicked Quinn out and has been cheating- okay yeah, there's no way of redeeming his character aside that he paid for Quinn's education. haha. That's just what child like us tend to do... misunderstood our parents. I want to pat myself at the back for surprising you! There's more to come! Another part of canon!Brittany I want to incorporate with this Brittany is that no one really understands her except Santana. Haha.

**Guezilla: **guest's display names are getting more creative as we go on. Haha. I meant that there was no happy moment for Quinntana in that chapter. But rest assured that this is Quinntana endgame!

**D: **I... this is not riversgron is it? It sounded different. Anyway, I notice you! Please don't be shy to leave a message! I write on my free time and when I'm on a mood so it's okay! Honestly, I'm not that great! I've never thought people would like what I write, it's overwhelming to read your feedbacks. Last Christmas was an experiment and just the result of every night listening to TS, so we all have my roommate to thank!

**Ben: **She'd still be in the future chapters! I don't think I can let her go that easily... After all, she helped put Quinn back together after Santana. As for the Fabrays, I just feel like... they're rich educated people... I'm pretty sure they're not pure evil... just misunderstood. Or mostly because I've been hooked to Revenge, and i got the inspiration from someone I know, and Conrad Grayson. haha. Also, my mom is like that. She just knows even before I open my mouth. We'd know about Emily more in this chapter!

**Review Reader: **Now that you've mentioned it, yes, they meet at the middle quite a lot. haha. I'd like to think it's 'great minds think alike'. lol.**  
><strong>

* * *

><p><strong>this is sort of like Filler chapter before the 'big reveal' and was intended to be posted on Naya's birthday but my laptop crashed and the file was gone. so yeah.<strong>

**Quinntana endgame. I thought that was clear?**

**Lots of Doctor Who references bec Doctor Who is life.**

* * *

><p><em>I don't know where you're going<em>

_But do you got room for one more troubled soul?_

_-Fall Out Boy, Alone Together_

* * *

><p>"So… in your journey to finding happiness, you had to help the girl you've been loving half of your life make another girl happy?"<p>

"You make it sound so masochistic. It's more of me helping my employee do what she's truly passionate about."

"Quinn, Santana is doing all these stuff just to make her dance again. If I didn't know any better, it looked like she was proposing to her."

"Well she's not." I snapped. Suddenly, Rachel's urge to get inside my head is unnerving me.

It's bad enough that I'm helping Santana do this for Emily. Yeah, sure, if it happens that Rachel somehow just _stopped _singing (which by the way seems really impossible) because she got herself hurt before and had vowed not to sing again to save herself from the heartache, I would do this grand gesture for her so she could go back to doing what she's passionate about. But _me _and _Rachel _is totally different from _Santana _and _Emily. _I've known Rachel all my life. We've been there for each other when we're at our worst and our best. What about Santana and Emily though? They've just known each other, what? like three months tops? And it was all consists of _small conversations _and subtle flirting (rolling my eyes right now).

"This is sad, Quinn. Just sad."

I slump my shoulders in defeat. Why is my life like this?

"Look, I want to be happy, yes. But it doesn't solely mean I had to get back together with Santana. I had to work with my other issues as well."

"Like what?"

"Like…-"

Ding.

"There's someone outside."

"Are you expecting someone?"

I check my phone to see what the time and date is and recall if I had made plans with someone. "I'm gonna check it out."

"Quinn! Are you crazy? Haven't you heard of—"

I roll my eyes at Rachel as I pull away the phone from my ear. I have an InterCom so I don't really have to open the door if I don't want to.

"Rachel, Santana is here. I'll call you later."

Before she could say something else, I hung up the phone.

* * *

><p>Do you know that feeling where you work so hard to get something you've always wanted, do what you always dreamed of, and then when you've got your dream in the palm of your hand… you just don't know what to do next? That's a thing. That happens. Like what would you say when you meet the celebrity that you've always admired, or where would you go when you receive the keys to the car you've always wanted.<p>

Because now I'm with Santana, who invited me (_invited me_. yes, not the other way around) for a stroll at New York tonight, and I have no idea what to do.

Apparently, that's not a problem, because it would seem that Santana has everything planned out. She just knocked on my door, 30 minutes ago, and asked me if I have any plans and when I told her none, she asked if I wanted to go out tonight. I would've said 'No'…okay, let's not kid ourselves. I _wanted _this.

So now, here I am, walking side by side with Santana while silently studying her. Oh, yes, have I mentioned she's holding my hand? I feel like a lovesick-giddy teenage girl all over again. It feels like the first time we've held hands… except this time around, Santana initiates everything. It feels surreal and-

"Hey, you okay?"

Santana lets go of my hand, and I almost say, 'No, don't let go!', when I've noticed we had reached our destination… It is some random diner way over the west side of the city.

I turn to Santana, raising my brow in question.

She just smiles brightly, "It has parking lot!"

What now?

"Uhm… Okay?" is the only thing I had managed to say.

She leads me inside while _still _talking animatedly, "Don't you think it's special? I've never seen a diner with a parking lot in Manhattan before! Have you? So I've decided to stop by when I got lost in the city. Then I realized, all the cabbies eat here." I look around and indeed, there are cab drivers eating at random booths. "I think they're a great judge of food!" I'm not so sure about that. "Or I don't know. Maybe free parking lots beats the taste of cheap food every time?"

Santana leads me to an empty booth as I look around skeptically. Okay, so when we sort-of started dating… of course I've wanted to take her out on a date. I'm pretty sure that's normal too, even though that is impossible, hypothetically speaking, I've always wondered what food she'd like, or where she'd want to eat. It is safe to say that this has never crossed my mind.

I mean, I don't want to be judgmental or anything, but Santana once told me that Santas in her world, were like the Emperors, kings, and pharaohs of our world…

_"Think of it as the monarchs of your world. The leader anointed by God. When he dies, his children inherit the power and responsibilities that comes with it."_

That means she's really important, right? So I had never pictured her in this background. Well, I also didn't think she'd be eating take-outs and pizzas, but hey, she's in our world now, so maybe she's trying new things?

We sit by the booth near the window facing the said parking lot. Indeed, that is new.

Though something in the menu must have pulled Santana in. That or there is something in here unknowingly to her, connected to her past-life. She doesn't have a car, so the parking lot should have meant nothing to her. And I _do _have a car… but it's not like we drove here. She insisted we take a _stroll. _So really, mentioning the parking lot has done nothing to me other than intrigue me.

"I shouldn't have brought you here." I return my gaze to Santana and I see her grimace. "You probably don't eat in a place like this."

I quickly shake my head. "No. This is new. It's good." I try to shoot her a reassuring smile.

Seconds later, a tall pale-looking guy is standing upon us. "Hey buddy!" He smiles at Santana and Santana just rolls her eyes at him but smiles anyway. "Long time no see!"

"Hi, _Kurt."_

Kurt plops down a menu in front of me and turns to me. He raises an eyebrow at me, "Santana, is this kidnapping? You know I love you and whatever dirty work you are planning on this girl, I'm in, but you could've told me beforehand! Should I get the duct tape now or…?"

Santana puts her hand on her forehead while shaking her head in… most likely embarrassment. She looks up to me, and shakes her hand in front of her while frowning as if telling me don't believe a word this Kurt says. I actually find it amusing… and _confusing._

She glares at Kurt and forcefully snatches the other menu from Kurt. "She's my _friend. _So stop embarrassing me."

Friend. Wow. I thought it would've hurt to hear it said out loud, but this is the first time she had introduced me to someone (aside from Sophia), and somehow relief washes over me.

"A friend huh? You've never brought someone else here before, and here I am thinking you've just made up that blonde friend of yours." He bellows. "Cedes! Come out here! Santana has finally brought someone over!"

Santana _blushes _and mouths, "I'm sorry."

I find myself smiling at this. I'm the first one Santana has brought in this place. I doubt that she talks about me, I'm pretty sure that's Brittany they are referring to, I still find it entertaining to see this side of hers.

Out of the kitchen trundles a female black beauty, with a face with slight make-up. She wipes her hand with her apron and smiles at Santana. "Hello, chica!" She looks at me pouting, and then hands a twenty dollar bill to Kurt.

We both look at them questioningly.

Kurt just crosses his arms and smiles smugly, "'Told her, you're gay. You only talk about one friend. Only tell us how amazing she is at dancing. That must have been a code for something lesbian at how flexible she is."

Santana gasps, "That is just rude! It's not my fault, I only have Brittany to talk about!"

Mercedes just shrugs her shoulders, ignoring Santana, "And I told him, you're too hot to be gay. But whatever floats your boat, baby girl!" She playfully pats Santana at the back.

"And what, you've decided to actually _bet _on that?" Santana cried.

"Hey, we need a little somethin' somethin' to entertain us here."

"But damn girl! Don't you think she's a little too much for you? I mean don't get me wrong you're—"

Santana shakes her head disbelievingly. "She's _not _my girlfriend! She's Quinn, the baker—"

"No way." They both gasps. A little too dramatic I might say. But it came out really funny. Like a comedy duo would've done.

"Now you're just digging a deeper hole." Kurt finally says after they share a knowing look with Mercedes and Santana sighs frustrated, "What now?"

Kurt leans in to me and then smiles teasingly at Santana. "Do you know how much she talks about how amazing your hands are?"

I feel my face heating up as Santana's eyes widen and almost immediately stands up but Mercedes puts a hand on her shoulder stopping her. "I was talking about how good she is at baking! What is wrong with you?!"

Mercedes pipes in, "'also said something about—"

"Seriously, just stop it. _Please. _And you still wonder why I don't bring someone over." Santana pouts and it is adorable. They actually look like a family.

Both Kurt and Mercedes just laugh and pat Santana's back and mine. They are friendly. A little too friendly?

"Gonna have your usual?"

Santana nods weakly, probably still embarrassed over the interaction.

"And your girlfriend?"

Santana cringes, and the silence at the table lengthens. Though I could see both Kurt and Mercedes fighting off the laughter threatening to come out, I save Santana from another round of teasing, "I'll have a burger, fries and an iced tea, please."

Kurt claps his hands and smiles brightly at us. Before the duo leaves, Mercedes leans in to Santana to whisper clearly about me 'cause she's looking at me pointedly. Santana cradles her head in her hands, as though she literally wanted to disappear. after they leave, she looks apologetic at me, "That was just awkward. I can't even…"

She sighs and looks at me guiltily, "When they're not busy embarrassing me, they can really be fun. I just thought you could use some cheering up is all."

Oh. There it is.

All Santana knows is that the engagement is off. And it wasn't even because I told her. She had just noticed I wasn't wearing my ring anymore. She opened the subject before but I immediately dropped it. It's not really something I would like to talk about especially with her. What am I supposed to say without giving off too much? She hasn't opened the subject ever since, and that was a week ago. I'd say I really appreciate the space. Though maybe it was only because she was busy with her surprise for Emily.

We fall into a comfortable silence, something I was used to. That's the thing about Santana. She doesn't pry.

Kurt comes back with our drinks.

Santana takes a sip at hers and then glares at Kurt even before he can say a word. Before he leaves though, he puts a muffin on a plate in front of me. He leans into me to whisper in my ear so that Santana can't hear it.

"I know, it's not as good as your work, but don't worry, it's edible. It's our little somethin' somethin' for being friends with this weirdo." He leans back then winks at me before he leaves.

"What did he tell you?"

I just smile at her and takes a bite on my muffin.

That's the thing about being a baker. Once I bake something, I taste it. If it's good enough for my standards, it's ready for sales. I haven't really tasted another pastry other than the ones I bake.

"So, you have a usual at this place. Is this your regular booth too?"

Santana shakes her head lightly. "I usually sit near the counter. I'm usually on my own, so…" She points to the counter where Kurt is waving his hand exaggeratedly. Like he's been watching us, and waiting to be noticed. For the nth time, Santana rolls her eyes at him and shakes her head.

"What about Brittany?"

She turns her gaze back at me and then stirs her iced tea with her straw. "I usually go out at night to explore the city on my own."

On her own?

Santana must have seen the confusion on my face because she trails off, "It's always been my thing. Travelling alone, that is. It's weird. I know. Sophia says it's sad. And sometimes, it feels like that." She looks away, averting her eyes from mine. She looks towards the window where another cabbie parks his taxi.

Santa travels alone (if you would disregard her reindeers). Is that it?

She looks back at the direction of the counter and this time, she smiles at Kurt. Maybe because Kurt is now entertaining the new customer so he doesn't see Santana. "But sometimes it doesn't. Especially when I meet new people like them."

Is that how her life used to be?

How can Santa feel empty when s/he makes everyone else happy on Christmas day? Isn't that a little ironic?

"But Brittany is home."

Something tugs at my heart when I hear her say that.

"That's how we work. No matter how far apart we are. We know, we'll always go back to each other. And I think, it's why we don't mind travelling on our own most of the time."

I feel a lump on my throat.

Maybe I'm only hearing things I wanted to hear. Getting the message, I wanted to read.

Maybe that's the truth.

Brittany is home. And she knows it.

And even though Santana goes through these lengths for me… I'm just another temporary companion to her adventures. Who knows maybe I'm not the only one.

Brittany said it once. _"She can see if someone is of purest heart, then she lets herself to care about them, but not enough to get attached."_

Is that all I am to you? Have you really ever loved me?

But she's in New York, isn't? out of all the probable people she had met, she's _here. _Damn it. I should really get some straight answers from Brittany. If only she could find a time for me so we could talk.

Kurt comes back clearing the awkward silence that is between us. He sets our orders in front of us and tells Santana that if either of us needed anything to just call him.

As he leaves, I set my gaze on Santana's food.

_"That's your order?"_

It looked like a cheeseburger deluxe, chicken alfredo pasta, and a basket of fries.

Okay, with her petite body, I didn't think she has that appetite. But I had to admit, when I ordered a while ago, I didn't think I was that hungry. But smelling the burger, my stomach starts rumbling.

"Aside from my regular cookies intake this afternoon, I haven't really eaten anything." She shrugs nonchalantly,

"Santana!"

She mumbles something really soft and fast that I couldn't make out. I narrow my eyes at her and hopes she gets intimidated by it. She avoids my gaze as long as she can but I know her. As much as she can't stand staring at my eyes, she also can't stand me staring at her.

"I don't know how to cook, okay?" She sulks and leans back to her booth while looking away.

I don't know if I should be surprised by this. But at this point, I don't really know anything about Santana.

"Brittany takes care of that every morning. But she left early today in a hurry because of something at set and she told me to just eat outside, and it just slipped my mind."

How can eating slip someone's mind?

"So what? every time you miss breakfast _and _lunch you just wait 'till midnight to fill it all up? You're a dancer, Santana! How can you get through the day without food?"

"Why do you think I eat your cookies everyday?" It reminds you of our forgotten past? "The sugar gets me through the day. I don't skip whenever Sophia is with me during lunch though so it's fine!" Okay. So I think I overestimated the importance of my cookies to her.

"And what if she isn't?" Also, how often do you spend time with your student? She's six years old but… Am I the only one finding _that _weird? Because if I am, I better work on this bitterness harder than I used to.

We didn't notice but we were glaring at each other, not backing down on our argument. It's new. And it makes me feel like we're _normal. _Santana and I don't argue on trivial things. We're either busy finding out more about each other or avoiding the inevitable goodbye.

This time, I decide to give in first when a thought crosses my mind. What If Santa doesn't need to eat to survive? Now I hate myself for not asking these questions before. I mean, I offered her cookies so she can bring it back to Brittany, and she told me they don't need it. So what if Santana doesn't really need to eat? I started laughing and she looks at me quizzically probably confused by my sudden change of mood.

"Promise me you won't skip a meal." It doesn't matter now what Santa does. Santana is now human, and she needs food to survive.

She looks hesitant. She tilts her head to the side and just stares at me. Her lips slowly quirks upward. "You could be really convincing sometimes."

She steals one of my fries and dips it in the ketchup. "Okay."

"Say it."

She rolls her eyes, still looking at me amused. "I promise not to skip a meal."

I intertwine my fingers and rest my chin over it, "Now mean it."

She shakes her head gently and looks back at me saying it softly, "I only say things 'cause I mean it."

Of course you do.

* * *

><p>After we leave the diner, I feel a panic growing inside me. Is this the part where she walks me back home? 'Cause I'm not ready to end this (whatever this is) yet. In the sound of my footsteps slapping against the pavement, I feel my heart hammering.<p>

We continue to walk in silence into a much quieter, much unfamiliar area of Ninth Avenue. Santana holds my hand again, and I feel safe. It's cold tonight, but somehow, I don't mind Santana's cold hand too. It would seem that Santana knows this place better than I do because she's leading me to a place I have never been to.

"What makes New York the 'greatest city' in the world, Quinn?" She asks, this time letting go of my hand _again. _Why does she keep doing that? I guess it's not normal for friends to hold hands but…-

"It's like a big bowl of soup. You get a variety of things."

She laughs slowly, spinning around, walking backwards facing me. I immediately look at her back to see if she's gonna bump into someone or something. "Trust an artist to say something like that."

I look at her skeptically. Should I give something else then? "Well… There's the Empire State Building. There's the Statue of Liberty. Broadway—"

She stops walking and I would have bumped into her if she didn't have her hands on my shoulders, cutting me off. "Between the two of us, who do you think travels more?"

I'd say you, considering you used to roam around the world in a matter of seconds so…

"It's safe to say, you're more adventurous than I am."

"Exactly! But that's the thing about New York. I always find something new around every corner!"

She turns around swiftly and continues walking. I stare dumbfounded at her. Is this the part where she leaves me with cryptic messages? I shake my head and run towards her.

I manage to catch up to her and walk side by side her. "Where are we going next?"

"I don't know. I haven't been on this side of the city."

I look at her to see if she's joking and I see her blank face. What?

I look around to see if there's something familiar around and notice that there's none. Next, I hope to find a cab. It wasn't until I feel Santana's cold hands in both sides of my face that I slowly look back to her. "It's okay to be lost, Quinn."

No. It's not.

I don't like the feeling of being lost.

It's sad.

Santana runs her thumb on my cheeks and she sends a reassuring smile my way. "I know." Oops. Did I just say that out loud?

"But we could be lost together, Quinn. It's not gonna be sad. I promise."

I find myself nodding weakly. Now, who could really be _that _convincing?

She pulls back and we start walking again. I haven't explored new York on my own. I always have Rachel to drag me anywhere, and I used to take Cookie on parks for walks, but I've never really explored the city alone, expecially at night. Is it safe?

We enter what would seems like a _bus terminal _and Santana then leads me through an orange-tiled hall. The aroma of the place doesn't smell inviting at all, and makes me question if there's something pleasantly surprising in this place. Well, she didn't mention we're going to have fun, but still.

As we reach the top of the escalator, our eyes meet a poster that says that this place is a bowling alley. Okay, I know New York is full of surprises, but… A bowling alley in a bus terminal? On the other side, there are pool tables, and a mini-bar. What is this place, exactly?

"It used to be a bus terminal. Then they converted it."

"So…" Santana turns to me looking expectantly.

"So?" I repeat.

"Pool or bowling? Your choice."

I've played billiards before. _But _that was when I was in high school. Puck taught me how to play… And it sort of became our past-time hobby when we double-dated with Finn and Rachel. I've never really tried bowling though. We have one bowling alley in Ohio. But it smells like piss and sanitizers—not a good combination, so I didn't bother coming back again.

"Do you play any?"

She shakes her head lightly but she looks _excited _though_. _Breaking into the stoic character now, are we?

"Let's go with pool then." I decide on going with the pool table. At least I'd be able to teach her that. The only thing I know about bowling is you have to hit everything in order to win.

We go over to the booth to pay for the rent of the pool table, and to order some drinks. Turns out Santana is paying for everything tonight. The man by the counter tells us we have one hour to play, and if we wish to continue, we could pay for another hour.

As we head to the table we rented, I ask her, "You've never really been to this place?" Just to be sure.

"Nope." She pops the 'p' part and at the corner of my eyes, I see her rub her hands together. Someone's really eager tonight.

When we reach the table, she goes to the side to pick up the balls from below. I went to the other corner to get the remaining balls. "A cabbie told me about the place."

We both place the balls on to the triangle. "I thought you don't kno—"

"I don't. I really haven't been to this place before. 'Told you I travel alone. I can't play any of this if I'm alone, right? So no point in dropping by."

"You talk to a cab driver?"

"I talk to strangers all the time."

I bet you do.

Before I can say anything though, she hands me my cue stick and the chalk. "I don't know about you, but my father never really gave me the whole 'don't talk to strangers' when I was a kid. I wasn't friendly, but it's this weird thing where I _try _to be when it's nearing Christmas. Don't ask why. I can't explain it either."

Okay. Not gonna ask then.

"So. How do we do this?"

I study her for a moment before responding.

_Billiards._

Never seen this coming.

A smile plays on my lips as I get three balls from the triangle. "Okay, we can play the 8-ball, because that's easier." I pick up the ball with '2' on it and held it out for her to see. "It's simple. The first to pocket all 7 balls of the same type – in this case, the solid ones," I pick up the ball with the '10' on it and held it in her direction. "or this one, the striped ones, then when you got 7 balls pocketed, you aim for this." I held out the '8' ball. "When you pocket all 8-balls, you win."

"What happens when I pocket the 8-ball without finishing the 7 balls?"

"You lose."

She bites her lip then look at the pool balls at the table as if processing the rules. On a dim light the lamp above the table could offer, I can study her face. Somehow, I enjoy seeing her like this.

"So, balls 1-7 or 9-15, then the 8, right?" She looks back at me.

I smile at her then nod my head.

"It's okay if you pocket one of my balls, as long as you pocket yours first. It's called a combination shot. You pocket two balls, but make sure, you pocket your type first before you pocket mine. Otherwise, it's considered as foul."

She nods in response, then I put the balls back to the triangle, making sure the 8 is in the middle.

"Should I break it, or do you want to…" I hand the cue ball to her.

Santana smiles at the offer then happily grabs the cue ball from my grasp and put it on the table.

She bites her lip as if really concentrating, and then hits the cue ball. As I've expected, she didn't hit anything.

I bit my lip to fight off the laughter, but I was failing miserably and I got a glare from her in response.

"If you were expecting me to fail, why did you even offer the break to me?"

"It's your first time! It's part of the whole effect!" I said while smiling teasingly at her.

"You just love teasing me, don't you?" She puts her hand on her hip while the other grips the cue stick harder.

I straighten my composure and hope that I'm looking apologetic at her. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. If it'll make you feel any better, I didn't hit any—Okay you know what? I'm just gonna be honest. I wasn't really that bad. I actually pocketed one ball on my first try. '7'. My lucky number."

I wanted to stay smug, but the look on her face is too adorable so I resulted to fits of laughter again.

"Of course you're good at everything you do. Shut up." She snaps and walks over the middle of the table to grab the cue ball.

When she positions the cue ball on the marked position on the pool table I walk over her and stand behind her. "I'll let you break again. You don't really have to put it in the center, you could put it anywhere you think will be convenient for you."

She seems to consider my advise and she repositions the cue ball.

Then I follow to where she is, then put my cue stick on the table. I put my hands on her hips. She stiffens but before I could stop myself, I lean into her. "When you strike, you _only _move your arm." I run my hand over her left arm. _Damn. _I'm only doing this for educational purposes. I'm only doing this because I'm teaching her. "Hold your body still." My other hand runs through her back to her right side.

I should hate myself for doing this. _This _is why Puck taught me how to play pool.

"Since you're left handed, lean on your right foot." When I say foot, my right hand slides down to her _thigh_. I should really stop.

"When you swing your cue, it must only be on your waist level." Then, my left hand had a mind on its own.

I'm well aware of our position right now, and even though there are different scents around us, my mind could only focus on hers.

I realize that the guys from the adjacent table is looking at us so I step back from her and reach for my cue stick. I walk to the other side of the table and act as if I wasn't creeping her out at all, but before I turn my body in her direction, I make sure I put on a façade for the guys on the other table. My glare, fortunately, pulled off nicely as they turned back to their game.

"Think you can hit something this time?" I add a hint of playfulness on that one in hope of continuing with my 'playing it cool' act.

Santana shakes her head and smiles back at me. her composure changed, the way I told her to and she swings her cue to aim. The cue ball hits the first solid ball, and the others started moving.

Even though she didn't pocket anything, I'd say that's so much better than her first try. Santana squeals in delight.

I study the table, and then move to the right side to take my turn. I pocket the '2'. "'Guess I'll be having the solids then." I told her while smirking.

She frowns but stays silent anyway. My smile gets bigger while she huffs when I pocket the '7'. "I told you it's my lucky number." I wouldn't say I'm _great _at this. It just so happened, I have good angles. It's just as she said, this night is full of surprises.

When I was aiming for '4', she stands to the opposite side of me. "It's my _first _game. You should really hold back a little. I don't know, maybe try?"

I hum in response. But my mistake is sneaking a glance on her because I saw her 'kicked puppy face', and I accidentally swing the stick, making me miss my target.

She squeals in delight and mouths a silent 'thank you' on my way. She grabs the chalk and dusts the end of her stick. I follow her movement with my eyes as she studies the table, she positions herself on the opposite side of me. I took a sip on my vodka and I really tried to keep my gaze on her figure and not on her chest. I really did.

I feel anger boiling inside me when I hear the guys at the other tables whispering about us. It'd be hypocritical of me to snap at them 'cause I think we just have the same thoughts. But at least I keep them to myself.

Luckily, or not, depending on who's point you're looking, Santana aims for '12' but completely miss it while pocketing the cue ball, making her slump her head on the table and groaning in frustration.

I laugh at her defeat and walk towards her to pat her back. I walk pass her to grab the cue ball from the pocket and look at the table for best position to put the white ball.

As I swing my stick back and forth before hitting the ball, I see Santana drink my glass in one go, her eyes looking determined at me. I shake my head lightly while smirking. Someone doesn't like losing.

She huffs when I pocket the '6'. She groans when I pocket _both _'1' and '12'.

She puts down the second (?) glass of vodka with a thud on the counter and marches towards me. "You're cheating!"

"I'm sorry?"

"You _cannot _be good at everything you do! How is that possible?" she says, moving her hands wildly.

* * *

><p>Santana doesn't tell me where the next destination is so I don't know if we're continuing our adventure of being lost or she has a plan. I always have plans in my life. It's essential for my survival. But I feel like, right now, I don't mind getting lost as long as I'm with Santana. Since when did I become so cheesy?<p>

I follow her and from afar I can see the Statue of Liberty in her might, and now I know where we're going. I try to keep up with Santana's fast pace as she explains how there are only a few Manhattanites who've gone on the Staten Island Ferry, which is weird because the ferry is free and the view from the top is amazing even though she hasn't seen yet – I think from what I had gathered, Santana loves heights which make sense because she used to travel by air. But I _don't. _It freaks me out. I hate flying, I had to grip onto something so hard whenever I ride a plane. Santana's sure the ferry is empty at this time and no one would notice if I embarrass myself through screaming and flailing. She said that to humor me and I only glare at her because that was not helping at all.

"I'm gonna die in there." I told her while standing firmly at my place shaking my head furiously.

"If it'll make you feel any better, the water freaks me out too." Santana says nonchalantly.

"What?" I blink in confusion.

"Sailing? Never been my thing. Brittany said it must be because I love flying. And they're opposites or whatever."

"Then why are we here? We need to take the ferry to reach the island—"

"We'll calm each other down." She smiles warmly at me, her eyes soft. And then she trails off. "And maybe, we could also laugh at each other's weaknesses. Isn't that what friends do?"

I stare at her dumbfounded. Before I even know it, she's dragging me upstairs to the bow of the boat near the railing.

As we pull away from New York, the skyline recedes behind us and the Hudson River opens up to one side, the harbor to the other. It's peaceful out here on the water, quiet except for a pair of hopeful seagulls following in our wake. I start to relax in spite of myself. I lean my back onto the railings and in the corner of my eyes, I see Santana gripping the railings while looking at the distant water.

"If the water bothers you, you should face the opposite side." I told her, curious at her position.

I can see her grip tighten at the railings as she slowly turns towards me. "It's part of the whole effect isn't it?"

Trying new things, eh? Santana would be a good bucket-list buddy. Before Rachel and I go to college, we tried doing a bucket list of things we haven't had a chance to do in Ohio. We only came up with a few lists but it was fun.

Standing close to her, finally turning my body towards the water, I ask her, "Is this what you do?"

"I told you this is my _first _time sailing." She says, keeping her gaze steady over the water.

I study her face as I continue, "You talk to strangers and take them for a night of adventure?"

Santana laughs. A real and genuine laugh. She shakes her head slowly. "And here I thought, we're passed beyond strangers now."

"I mean, do you just do things extraordinarily just so you can make your friends happy?"

Should I feel special? Did you ever love me?

Or Emily and I had to share a small spot in your heart?

"This is not extraordinary. This is spontaneous—"

"Then what about your surprise for Emily tomorrow? Is that normal for you? Is that how you work?"

"What is this about?" she snaps, momentarily forgetting we're on a boat and turns to me.

I take a deep breath and my shoulders slump as if I'm setting down a heavy load. "I just want to know why you're doing this."

She beckons me over to one of the empty benches. I sit down next to her. "You're sad, Quinn. And I know it's about your break up. I'm just trying to make you feel better the only way I know how."

"I haven't even told you about it!"

She says softly, "I don't need to know. I just know that I have to make you feel better because you're one of the few people I really care about." She laughs while looking away. "It's like… don't ask your always been single friend about heartbreak 'cause they don't understand what it feels like."

_Ouch._

Always been single friend.

I know she doesn't remember but that hurts more than I imagined it would.

I feel something salty in my lips and I realize that I'm crying. I wipe it away with the back of my hand and look away from her.

"I just…" Santana's face prickles up to attention, and a little caterpillar of anxiety bunches up above the bridge of her nose. "I just don't think talking about your loss is therapeutic at all." She trails off softly.

"Brittany knew my father died not because I told her. It was because everyone was talking about it. She was there for me and kept on making me talk about it because she thinks keeping it inside is torturing me. Well, guess what? Talking about it wasn't helping at all either." Santana turns to me, her eyes dead on mine, searching, reaching. "You understand that, right? You _always _do."

It's probably why she doesn't push me into talking. In some way, I feel comfort in that. It's like we have a mutual understanding even on silence.

"I just thought you had Rachel for the talking part. And I don't really know much about your fiancé—"

I reach for her hand to cut her off and squeeze it to reassure her that it's fine. "I'm really glad I'm with you tonight."

After a few minutes, we're close to the statue of Liberty. She's all spotlit in the night, and her torch is also illuminated, like there's really a flame in there, welcoming the huddled masses.

I've never been to Statue of Liberty before. Before Rachel was famous, she used to drag me around New York. But I'm more into parks, and museuems, and libraries, than tourists spots. During nightouts, we hit the bars and clubs where Thomas used to DJ. When Rachel hit the screens, we can't go to crowded places anymore. Clary doesn't like crowded places, too, because she feels suffocated. I don't like travelling alone so I've never had a chance to explore New York on my own.

"Her face looks softer up close." I say breathlessly. In pictures she looks like the opposite.

Santana chuckles, "She looks like she knows something that we don't." She gestures towards the statue, and I see what she means.

"I think we should ask her."

I look at her to see if she's joking, but I can only see determination at her eyes. "Okay. I think you're still drunk or dizzy. The water must have been playing tricks on your head."

Santana tilts her head on the side and laughs like I'm amusing her. "Who gets drunk on two shots of vodka?"

Five.

She didn't take her losing quite well.

She frowns deeply and swivels away. "Also, sailing isn't as bad as I'd thought it'd be. But I am _not _doing this again. Why did I even talk you into doing this?" Her hand is on her temple massaging it as her eyes close.

* * *

><p>"I thought the change of scenery would make me feel better, now, I'm not so sure. The playground? Really?"<p>

It's morning now and we find ourselves by a small playground near a daycare center right on the East River with Manhattan so close you can almost touch it.

I must have given her a weird look because she blushes, "Well I'm sorry if this is the only happy place I know right now. Sophia is the only friend I have aside from you so…"

Okay. Playground? Not really a happy place for me. I hate playgrounds.

I think we have already established how much of a loner I was when I was kid. My parents don't let us go outside to the playground. They'd rather we play inside the house with our toys, and attend to our lessons. At school, no one bothered to play with me. And if by chance, they spare me their attention, it was only for the sole purpose of making fun of me. So yes, I don't do well with playgrounds.

But since we're already here, I'm not really about to share how sad my life is, I take my chances on the swing because it's pretty much the only place where we could go seeing how grown up we are. I started walking towards it. "Sophia is what? six years old?"

"Shut up." Santana says playfully following suit.

I'm not really to judge. I laugh softly and started kicking against the ground to swing myself up. "It's fine. The first time I had a friend was when I was eleven. And she was too good to be true I thought she was an imaginary friend." It feels weird talking about her without her knowing. Is that cheating?

"Was she?"

There were many times that it felt like she was. _My Santana. My fantasy. _"No. Being with her felt more real than any other thing I've experienced."

She looks down with a sad smile, "Well, I had a friend once, too. I only met her twice, and I lost her both times. This time though, I don't think I can find my way back to her."

Twice?

I feel like air was knocked out of my lungs, my legs felt numbed and I follow her with my eyes.

"What was your friend like?" I know my voice waivers but if she noticed, she doesn't show it.

"There's not really much to tell because I don't remember much about her." She shakes her head sweetly and looks guiltily. "I've been told I'm not really good at making friends so there's that. It was probably a long time ago. When I was younger. I don't remember what she looks like, or what her name was."

Twice?

And just like that, without thinking without saying it in my head first, without arguing with myself for days it's out there.

Lucy and Quinn?

Brittany has her side of the story. Rachel has hers.

But what is Santana's? Isn't hers the most important one?

She seems oblivious to the chaos she had caused me so she continues, "The only thing I know is how she made me feel. Isn't that what lasts?" I stopped swinging now. "I was lonely… and she was too. I could see it in her eyes. Her big, sad eyes. We were two troubled souls one winter. But we were _alone together_, so that makes it better. Being lost suddenly didn't feel that empty anymore."

"Have you been looking?" I mumble breathlessly.

"I have. I'd like to think I have. But how can you find someone when you don't even know who you're looking for?"

All I can hear now is a roaring in my head, a wordless howl as Santana reminisces her past with this girl.

There's something else, too. A small voice trying to break through, to puncture the roar of nothingness. And the voice grows stronger and stronger and I hear myself asking. _Is it me?_

"Hey. I know it's sad, but you don't have to cry for me. I'm doing this wrong, aren't I? I wanted to make you feel better. I'm sorry. I'll think of a happier story."

"No… No. It's fine. It's my eyes. I don't know what's wrong with them. They kept doing that and—"

I feel her stop swinging and then I notice her standing in front of me. Before I could look up though, she puts both her hands on the sides of my face and kisses the top of my head. When I look up to her, I see her eyes widen and she steps back immediately and puts her hands behind her back like I've just caught her stealing.

I wanted to tell her it's okay. Because we had enough of surprises and weirdness for the night I think there was nothing we could do to clear the boundary line between friendship and… not.

Thinking it is best to get back on the subject at hand, "How will you find her?"

She seems to be glad at the resuming of the conversation, "The first two times I've met her, I think it was by accident. So I figured, maybe if I wander around a bit, I might see her again."

I hop off the swing and straighten my clothes to get ready for leaving.

"I hope you find her again." I tell her sincerely.

I'm right here. Please recognize me.

"So do I."

* * *

><p>We were by my door and I have no idea where to go from here. I know the goodbye is just a few steps away but I don't want to let go of this moment yet. It feels like the last times, where I just want to freeze this moment and hold onto it for the rest of eternity. But I can't. because like always, she's gonna leave me and I'll be left to keep waiting.<p>

"You really have to stop doing that, Quinn." The hurt in Santana's voice brought me out of my trance and I look back at her in question.

"What?"

She steps back a little creating a distance between us and I see a glint in her eyes. "I know that I remind you of someone. But I am _not _that person, okay? _Every _time that you give me _that _look. I… I feel like you're seeing her, and not me. Do you know how that feels? I'm standing in front of you, and you _can't _even see _me_. And for reasons I cannot comprehend, it hurts me."

I know this is probably the part where I tell her that's not it. The perfect timing to deny what she said. But how could I? I had no idea what to do next. I had never been so lost for words – well, okay, maybe there are a few times. But I really hope I could at least say something to her. There are all these voices that clatter around in my head, Brittany's voice telling me that she will never remember no matter how I explain it to her, the previous Santana's voice, this Santana's voice reaching for me, Rachel telling me not to give up. But I'm a little optimistic. Especially from what I had gathered today, I'm still there. I'm still there and she's fighting her way back to me. I wanted to tell her that she's looking for me. but I think that it would cause more damage than anything good.

"If you want this to work, then you have to take me as I am. I will be your friend. I'll be there for you whenever you need me, be whoever you need me to be. But I'm not competing with a ghost of your past."

I didn't think she could notice me projecting the old Santana to her. It must be frustrating. She stops talking and hangs her head. Then she looks up at me with those eyes of hers pleading.

My heart hurt at the sight and I slowly stand up to reach for her. "No. You're not. I like spending time with _you." _Maybe leaving out the part that I'm projecting is the best path right now. From now on, I'll try to stop, I promise.

She nods and shoots me a weak smile. "I'll see you later?"

I almost forgot. Today's Emily's big day.


End file.
